


Reflection

by AmiLu



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Canon-Typical Violence, Dimension Travel, Fix-It, Gen, Humor, Kids, Light Angst, Naruto meets Naruko, No Romance, Rating May Change, Tags May Change, and is so confused
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-15 04:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7207106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmiLu/pseuds/AmiLu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was not everyday he awoke alone and confused in the middle of a clearing, then decided to just get back home—hoping to take a hot shower and eat a delicious cup of ramen—only to arrive and find a sleepy blonde-haired little clone feasting on said noodles. A clone with pigtails.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a silly drabble, but it has grown into something beyond my comprehension. Enjoy.
> 
> (July 15, 2016, the first five chapters have been rewritten. If you want to read the original ones, they are available [here](http://kurosakiami01.tumblr.com/post/147426314426/reflection-original-1-5-chapters)).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **EDITED:** July 15, 2016

**1**

 

Naruto was used to things happening to him.

When he said 'things', he was referring to strange, practically impossible things. Situations that, were he any other shinobi, he wouldn't have known how to resolve. (Not that he would have come to face such weird shit, if he were _really_ any other shinobi. He was not bragging here, he was just being honest. Because. In many cases he was proud of himself and his accomplishments, true, but in many others—he would have preferred not to be involved. At. All.)

He was still debating if this new development fit into any of those categories, or if it deserved a whole new class of its own.

Perhaps it had enough points to qualify into his 'weirdest shit that has happened to me ever' list. This included being the reincarnation of Asura, one of the sons of the Sage of Six Paths, and having fought against and taken down a literal goddess bent on destroying the world. (However crazy, Kaguya had been very powerful and did he mention a freaking _g_ _oddess?_ ). Incidentally, this goddess was actually the aforementioned Sage's mother—which meant that she had been something like Naruto's grandmother in a really strange, headache-inducing way.

Yes, he decided, as he looked down at the only other person in the room. This definitely seemed to be good quality material to add to that short but… interesting list.

How did he get pulled into this, anyway? He couldn't say that this was one of the possible scenarios covered during his debriefing. Naruto didn't remember Kakashi saying anything about waking up alone and disoriented in the middle of a clearing, and then coming back home to find it housing someone Naruto hadn't seen in his life. In fact, he doesn't remember what the mission was even supposed to be about.

He frowned, trying to bring it back.

Something about Uzushio…?

What he did remember was that he had been advised—or, more like threatened—not to take unnecessary risks due to the severity and complexity of the mission, but he sometimes just couldn’t help it. (What? Trouble found him, no the other way around! It had _always_ been like that!). Naruto could recall his ease with the mission parameters, how he grinned confidently and assured the current Hokage that he'd _'_ _get it done in an_ _j_ _iffy,_ _don't worry_ _'_ , but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was supposed to be about.

He couldn't remember what happened afterwards, either.

And now there he was, standing like a statue in the middle of his own tiny apartment, Jounin uniform dirty with sweat, earth and small specks of what he supposed must have been blood, blinking owlishly at a pair of blue eyes that were eerily familiar.

How should he act?

What should he do?

What should he say?

 _Should_ he do anything at all? Wasn’t there some crappy rule somewhere in the Shinobi Code about not giving anything away when you are not sure if you are in enemy territory or some other bullshit?

He has never claimed to be very bright. Or interested in boring history and rule-y stuff. Shikamaru was the brain behind his operation. Behind his team. And before him, Sakura had had that spot for herself. They were the ones he always counted on whenever he had to deal with that kind of things, because he found it, to borrow his friend's words, troublesome.

He didn't know what he was supposed to do, and it was not his fault. It wasn't. Neither of them was there with him, to tell him what he should or shouldn't say. He didn't know. And the furball was _sleeping!_ What was he supposed to—

“Er, mister...?” A childish voice interrupted his increasingly despairing internal monologue.

“Uh?” Was the only thing he managed to say after a moment. How eloquent.

“Why are ya in my apartment?”

Yep. That settled it. He definitely had somehow gotten himself into an incredibly weird situation worthy of a position within his 'weirdest shit that has happened to me ever' list. It may even deserve the second place in it. After the reincarnation thingy.

He could almost already feel the blow to the head his pink haired friend would happily give him when he returned home, which would surely be delivered together with one of those horrible lectures Naruto hated so much. Even though this—whatever _this_ was—was _not_ his fault, nothing short of body damage would appease her worry (though she'd call it her fury).

It was not everyday he awoke alone and confused in the middle of a clearing, then decided to just get back home—hoping to take a hot shower and eat a delicious cup of ramen—only to arrive and find a sleepy blonde-haired little clone feasting on said noodles. A clone with pigtails. Pigtails, and also very definite female features, even for someone so young.

(But it wasn't his fault!)

“Uh?” He repeated dumbly. _Oh, crap!_ He still hadn’t decided what to make of the picture, how was he supposed to know how to answer that?!

The small face scrunched up in confusion and then it projected a small sliver of fear. She dropped the chopsticks into the carton without care and got up from her spot really quickly, backing up slightly, as if to put more space between them. It was not exactly strange behaviour for Naruto, as he himself had acted similarly before he started attending the Academy and learnt to defend himself, but it shocked him nonetheless. However, he barely had time to assimilate what he was seeing before the girl put a defiant mask on and stood bravely in front of him, small shoulders tensed but squared in determination.

“Ya wanna fight? ‘Cause I won’t let ya beat me!” She shouted, rising her fists defensively. Her voice wavered slightly, but her eyes didn't show anything else apart from courage.

_What?!_

“Oi, oi! Kid! I don’t want to fight!” He cried, trying to placate her. She scowled. Naruto sighed and put his hands up in a show of good will. The girl's scowl diminished, but she didn't lower her arms from their position in front of her chest. He absently noticed that her form was lacking. “I’m just a little confused,” he admitted, seeing as the chibi still didn’t seem to believe him.

“Why?” She asked, eyeing him warily. She was narrowing her eyes so much squinting suspiciously, Naruto almost couldn't believe she was able to see him at all. The gesture made the teenager smile softly—it was so painfully familiar that he could do nothing but relax.

Something weird definitely happened that messed up his mission, and he promised himself that he _w_ _ould_ discover what, and how to get back home, but first he had a distressed child to reassure.

“My name’s Naruto,” he said, and he marvelled at the wide eyed look on the child’s face. “I’ve... just moved in, and it seems I got confused and entered the wrong apartment,” he lied. For some reason, he knew that claiming to live there was a bad idea, so he didn't. He usually didn't lie—he loathed doing so—but he needed a good excuse until he could go out and figure out what exactly was going on.

“Oh. Is that so?” She mumbled, body relaxing into a more natural stance as her arms dropped to her sides. “Why didn't ya say so before!” She exclaimed with a big, sunny smile, so much like his own. “Wait! Naruto?!” She yelled, incredulous and a little bit awed, “I am Uzumaki Naruko! Future Hokage, dattebane!”

 _Uh-huh. That pretty much confirms it,_ he thought. _She’s me._

“That’s awesome!” Naruto said, valiantly trying to sound enthusiastic. He thought he managed—if barely. As he was feeling faint and a little dizzy, it was no wonder.

“Of course!” She boasted, chest puffing up. “I… Hey, mister?!” She cried in sudden alarm.

Uzumaki Naruto will never ever, under _any_ circumstance, admit that he lost consciousness that day. Not for something as trivial as meeting his younger, female alter-ego. No way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **EDITED:** July 15, 2016.
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)

**2**

 

Sarutobi Hiruzen draw his signature at the bottom of the page and sighed. He put the brush away with care, not wanting to ruin the work of three hours by splattering ink all over it.

He hated paperwork.

Not having to deal with it any longer had been one of the many perks his decision to step down from the position presented. He had been looking forwards to living the rest of his years in happy retirement, his mind at ease because his successor was a good man who'd take care of the Village and its people to the best of his ability.

There was no doubt in the mind of the villagers that Sarutobi was a good Hokage. Powerful, caring—the Will of Fire was still burning brightly inside him, even after all the tragic losses he had suffered during his life. (And there were many, as he had lived much longer than the average shinobi. With their dangerous work, their lifespan usually extended only until they reached forty—if they didn't die on missions). These included both of his sensei, a very good friend, his beloved Biwako and that of the Fourth Hokage, among many others. But it was the death of his successor what made him feel that it was his duty to retake the mantle after those blissful short years of retirement.

There were many things he regretted in his life. He regretted not being able to transmit his Will of Fire to the one he considered his brightest student, he regretted not being more careful the night Kushina gave birth, he regretted not being able to stop his students from leaving—even when only one of them truly turned traitor. He regretted not being able to convince one of his best friends that violence was not the way to make Konoha stronger. Mostly, though, he regretted not being able to do more for Minato's little girl.

The same friend that wouldn't see eye to eye with him, Danzo, together with the Council of Elders had been keen on prohibiting any clan from taking the newborn baby in after her parent's demise. Her godfather was needed elsewhere and wasn't present, and it didn't matter how much of a valid reason some people from other clans had to adopt her—Fugaku and Kakashi, particularly—the Council wouldn't bend.

“The Jinchuuriki cannot be allowed to favour any clan over the others. The power play must be kept in balance,” they would say, and Hiruzen had to clench his teeth and keep quiet. He was the Hokage, yes, but the Council had almost as much power making decisions as him. He couldn't have risked a rebellion so soon after the Kyuubi attack, it would have been devastating. They had already lost so many civilians and good shinobi to the bijuu, they couldn't afford to lose more. It'd bring Konoha to its knees.

It was with much reluctance that he agreed to their terms. Kakashi protested them, of course—but it was half-hearted at best. He had just lost the last member of his team, after all, and if the deaths of his teammates hadn't broken him completely already, that last one did.

(Hiruzen was worried then, and was still worried now about the mental health of the boy—his decision to enter ANBU and take the most dangerous missions even all these years later were a constant source of concern for the aged man.)

Fugaku, on the other hand, calmly accepted the negative and did not protest it. Hiruzen suspected that it was largely because Mikoto was not allowed to be there with him. She would have put up a fight, no doubt about it, as it concerned her best friend's daughter. In truth, Fugaku had probably been considering the difficulty of bringing up two small kids at the same time—and he hadn't been comfortable with the idea.

The Council sent little Naruko to the orphanage.

Hiruzen noticed the disdain in which she was received, and the very next day he proclaimed a law. Nobody was allowed to talk about her status to her or to the children below Chuunin, under penalty of death.

He had wanted to believe it would be enough to deter the citizens, but he wasn't that naive. The Kyuubi attack had taken many lives, and mourners needed a scapegoat. Why not canalize all their pain and anger at the demon's container?

The old man sighed ruefully and straightened his robes.

Naruko would be seven in October, and he had promised her she would be able to attend the Academy. Hiruzen worried about her treatment, but had hopes that it would be what she needed to finally start making friends and stop feeling so lonely. (He tried to visit and have dinner with her as much as he could, but he was a busy man—and the girl needed friends that were her age, friends who would be with her always). He usually didn't interfere much with the school's running, but in this particular case he had observed the teachers and done some background research to be sure to assign the least judgemental to Naruko's class. He eyed Umino Iruka's file over his desk, partially hidden beneath his last load of paperwork, and hoped that he wasn't making a huge mistake.

(He was tired of making those.)

The door opening suddenly with a bang startled him out of his introspection as a small, bright ball of sunshine entered his office in a frantic hurry, completely ignoring his Chuunin secretary's vocal admonishments.

“Jiji!” Naruko exclaimed anxiously, and the soft smile that had started to spread over the Hokage's face froze. Something was not right. He could _feel_ it. “Jiji, you _ha_ _ve_ to come with me! Come!” She jumped towards him and grabbed the hem of his sleeve, tugging insistently. “Hurry!”

Worried, the man did as he was told and promptly followed the little girl out of his office. His secretary started apologizing but he cut her off with a movement of his hand and a kind smile.

“There's nothing to worry about,” he said, and he prayed that he was not lying. “I'll be back shortly,” he announced, and then promptly returned his attention to the small blonde, who was biting her lip worriedly and seemed to want to run out of there. “Let's go,” he encouraged her, and suddenly found himself being hastily led out of the Hokage Tower and down the street, dodging pedestrians that were too slow in Naruko's opinion. The presence of three of his ANBU guards at their back were the reason why he was not feeling more anxious himself.

“Naru-chan, what happened? Where are we going?”

“Mister _died!_ ” She cried in distress, and Hiruzen was suddenly much more concerned. “He was telling me that I'd be the awesomnest Hokage ever and then he was white and then _he died!_ I tried to wake him up but _nothing!_ ”

“Who?” He asked, feeling troubled. He recognized the path towards Naruko's apartment, and it worried him that there was someone there alone right now. He doubted whoever it was was actually dead. He just hoped it wasn't someone up to nefarious goals.

“Naruto!”

She threw the door open and the both of them rushed inside. Hiruzen gave the room a quick once-over and then stopped dead in his tracks. He paled.

On the ground, in front of the only table in the small apartment, there was a ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any suggestion you can leave me a comment or find me in [tumblr](http://kurosakiami01.tumblr.com) or [facebook](https://www.facebook.com/kurosakiami01/)!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **EDITED:** July 15, 2016.

**3**

 

Morino Ibiki was not a man easily surprised. Of course, it was a prerequisite for his job—being the head of the Torture and Interrogation Division wasn't a walk in the park.

He had had his fair share of subjects to interrogate: spies, traitors, enemy ninja, infiltrators, and even rowdy Chunnins (even if it was only Anko, who he was seriously considering taking under his wing, as he had the feeling she would thrive in T&I). They were all dealt with differently, according to the crime committed or perceived. It could be the soft kind, or the brutal one—it didn't really matter to Ibiki, as he prided himself in always making them talk.

(His friends called him a sadist. He didn't even try to fight the claim, but he liked to remind them of the fact that he had never used more force than what was required for a job. He was good at what he did, but he didn't go further than he should. It was true).

During all his years working in Interrogation he had encountered many kinds of people with different personalities, backgrounds, missions and strategies to get out of trouble—even when these never worked in the end—, and after dealing with all that, he had started to fancy himself unflappable. Impossible to take off guard. Ready to deal with _anything_.

He was proven wrong when the Sandaime Hokage appeared in his office without any warning, three ANBU at his back, carrying the unconscious body of a very young, very _alive_ Namikaze Minato.

“What?!” He had choked, completely out of his depth. “Is that…?”

“No,” Sarutobi-dono assured immediately, and Ibiki knew that the man didn't need to be a Yamanaka to read his thoughts. It wasn't really that hard, given the circumstances. After all, the blond shinobi resembled their dead Fourth Hokage too much for anybody who knew him not to make the connection.

“Then… who?” He asked, bewildered.

“I don't know,” the man admitted reluctantly. “That's what I need you to figure out,” he bit out, irritated, and Ibiki nodded in comprehension. “Where do you want him?”

The younger man eyed the limp body in the arms of ANBU Tora critically. He was covered in dust and there were specks of blood on his uniform—a Konoha Jounin uniform, though it was a bit strange. He had a stray leaf in his blond locks. “Is he wounded?” He questioned, wondering if the blood was his.

“No, just unconscious,” the ANBU dutifully answered.

“Cell five, then,” Ibiki decided, and made a vague gesture with his hand, indicating to the entourage that they should follow him.

He walked briskly past a doubly reinforced door, down a short flight of stairs, to the left in the first bifurcation, to the left again after passing in front of two heavily warded doors—from behind one of which they could hear muffled sobs—and, finally, to the right, crossing another intersection without paying attention to it.

Cell five was prepared for prisoners on the lower-to-mid-risk scale. He didn't know how powerful this stranger was, but the fact that Hiruzen only had three ANBU with him was enough for Ibiki to assume that the man was not considered a major threat, so he chose this cell instead one of the higher-risk ones. It was small, rather dark, and the only thing that could be easily distinguished at first sight was the chair planted right in the middle. It was there where they put the blond man, securing his wrists and ankles with heavy chakra suppressant manacles.

Ibiki's stomach lurched when he had a closer look to the stranger's face. If it weren't for whisker marks on his cheeks—which reminded him of something, but for the life of him he couldn't seem to remember what—, the boy looked so similar to Minato it was uncanny. It angered him, because he didn't understand and that made him twitchy.

He hated it.

This was an unknown man who wore the face of their dead Hokage and a uniform that could easily pass as one of their highest ranked shinobi in the force. He could be anybody, he could have done so much damage already—

Clenching his teeth, Ibiki turned towards the rest of the group and signalled with a tilt of his head that he wanted them out of the room. They obeyed quietly and without protest, and Ibiki was sure that it had to do with the fact that they would be able to watch everything from behind the one-way mirror. It was fine by him.

He was going to make the kid talk. Ibiki was nothing if not determined to extract every little bit of information he was able to from him. He was going to know who he was, where he came from, and what was his purpose. He was going to make him sing aloud his most darkest secrets.

Ibiki didn't do well with unknowns, especially when they were trying to make themselves pass for people well known and respected in his beloved village.

Those who tried—regretted it.

Sneering disdainfully, he folded his arms and leaned his back on the wall, letting the darkness of the room disguise him. Silently, with his eyes fixed on the slumped form, he waited for endless minutes for the suspect to wake up.

And if Ibiki discovered that he had done anything potentially harmful to his home—

The young man twitched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to tell me what you think ~ I really appreciate it! :3
> 
> (Ideas or scenes you'd like to see are welcome!)
> 
> Find me in [tumblr](http://kurosakiami01.tumblr.com) and [facebook](https://www.facebook.com/kurosakiami01/).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **EDITED:** July 15, 2016

**4**

 

Behind the one-way mirror, the observers scrutinized the strange blond man with keen eyes.

“Ugh… my head!” He moaned as he regained consciousness. There was a slight movement of his arms—pinned down by the manacles—which was enough to tell Itachi that the stranger had tried to take the aforementioned head in his hands, probably to appease the headache. The man startled and opened his eyes suddenly, using them to inspect his surroundings blearily. “Huh?” He sounded confused. “What—?” He asked to no one in particular, and then he groaned. “Oh, this is just awesome. First I'm delusional and then trapped in an interrogation room. Peachy, just peachy,” he mumbled angrily, puffing up his cheeks in aggravation.

Itachi lifted a fine eyebrow behind his ANBU mask. He was barely thirteen, and he had deemed the stranger to be approximately on his early twenties while unconscious, but now he wasn't so sure.

Was it normal for dangerous shinobi to act so… childish?

(Even though Sandaime-sama and Morino-san did not appear to consider the man a threat, Itachi was certain that he was dangerous. The sheer pressure of his chakra had told him so, and the man had been _unconscious!)_

The gesture made him think of Sasuke, and he felt a twinge of regret. There was a high probability that he wouldn't be able to avoid breaking yet another promise to his little brother. Depending on how stubborn the man being interrogated was, Itachi could be on time for Sasuke's training or really, really late. He didn't know which he preferred, to be frank.

He loved Sasuke with all his being, but his training time was usually supervised by their father. Itachi had taken to avoiding Fugaku as much as he could, and not just because the man was even harsher on Sasuke when Itachi was present, but also because Itachi was not comfortable being around the man that was planing to start a war with his own Village—even if he was his father. This was especially true since his cousin and best friend, Shisui, had informed him that Fugaku had actually ordered Shisui to keep an eye on Itachi and report back to him if he observed any compromising behaviour on the younger boy's part.

That had been a huge shock.

Itachi was just glad that his best friend had the same ideals he had—that he believed that peace was possible; that the Uchiha weren't above the rest of Konoha. He hoped that this complicated issue could be resolved without bloodshed.

“Sakura-chan will _kill me_ when I get back,” the blond man moaned despairingly, bringing Itachi back to the situation at hand. He scolded himself mentally for not paying attention and focused on the subject. “Where am I, anyway?” He asked curiously, trying to look around, “Furball, any idea?”

Itachi frowned. Who was Sakura? And who was he talking to? Was he delusional? It didn't appear so—and even though Itachi was too far away to see his eyes, these didn't seem to be unfocused and lost. A communication device? No, that didn't make sense, either. They had revised him and taken his kunai pouch and every other suspicious item from his person before strapping him to the chair.

“No need to get snippy with me, you bastard!” He growled, and it sounded like an answer, but nobody had said a world apart from him. Itachi had to glance towards his companions to gauge their thoughts from what little they expressed through their body language. Tora and Ushi seemed tense, but their masks didn't let him read much more into it. Sandaime-sama looked slightly concerned and deeply focused, with his brow furrowed in a stern line.

“No, this can't be Konoha,” he denied vehemently, and the wording actually made the ANBU flinch. _What?_ “I'm telling you, it's impossible! Why?” The blond's voice was incredulous. “Why would they ship me to T &I? You reckon—,” he cut himself off mid sentence and looked suspiciously around once again. He sniffed the air and immediately levelled a glare at the general direction in which Morino-san was still standing. _Sharp sense of smell,_ Itachi noted in his mental assessment of the subject. The blond swore loudly and then lowered his voice to a whisper, “Damn you, furball, you could have told me earlier!” The accusation was told under his breath, and Itachi had to really strain his ear to catch it. That's why it surprised him so much when the man bit out in a loud voice, “Who are you, bastard?! Show yourself!” The growl was aggressive, showing he wasn't scared in the least.

“I believe that you don't understand your position here, shinobi-san,” Ibiki said silkily, pushing off the wall and prowling towards the prisoner like a deathly predator. The subject just glared harder. “You don't get to ask anything of me—the one who makes the questions here… is _me_.”

Itachi was impressed with the man's intimidation technique. Soft, but menacing nonetheless; it contrasted sharply with his scary visage and normal brusque behaviour. Too bad it didn't seem to work on his prey.

“Ibiki?” The stranger asked, losing his glare and looking bewildered. “What…?” He blinked cerulean blue eyes in confusion, face open and without any noticeable hint of deceit. “Is this a joke?” He demanded, irritably. “Argh, Kami,” he groaned. “This is Anko's way of punishing me for eating the last stick of dango, isn't it? I promised her I'd buy her more! Damn her!”

His grumbles stopped when he suddenly had a kunai pressed dangerously close to his carotid artery. Gulping audibly, he looked at Morino-san askance.

“You _are_ Ibiki, right?” He asked in a small, uncertain voice, completely different from the loud one he had demonstrated until then.

“I am,” the man admitted reluctantly, a great deal of suspicion coating his tone. “The question here is, who—are— _you?_ ”

The teenager—Itachi was at this point almost certain that the blond wasn't that much older than himself—looked suddenly very afraid, his earlier incomprehensible ease with Morino-san disappearing into thin air.

He blinked. “Uh… Naruto?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made it a game out of changing perspectives and writing from the point of view of different characters... It's fun! I'd like to know if the differences in their personalities and ways of thinking are being transmitted... I mean, it's noticeable they are different? Or am I making them too plain?
> 
> I'm open to suggestions! Whether they may be about a particular scene you'd like to read, or a character whose point of view you'd love to see. Or anything, truly!
> 
> I hope you like where this is going! Cheers~!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **OLD EDIT: June 18, 2016.** Hullo! Before this chapter starts, I'd like to point out that the first, second and fourth ones have been edited slightly. (I've been told that Naruko's speech was a little bit forced, and I agreed, so I tweaked it a bit in the first two chapters, nothing major. The fourth one I recommend rereading if you read it before this chapter was out, as it finishes a bit different.) That said, enjoy chapter 5! :D
> 
>  
> 
> **NEW EDIT: July 15, 2016.**

**5**

 

Honestly, the kid could be so stupid.

Naruto protested his claim—mentally this time—but Kurama pointedly ignored him. He had the right to refer to his human's state of mind and general behaviour with any derogatory term he deemed necessary. After all, Kurama couldn't have been asleep more than an hour or so and look where he woke up! In a bloody interrogation cell in their own village. How was that possible?

And to make matters worse, instead of assessing his surroundings with all his senses the moment he woke up, Naruto started talking out loud and to him—in a _clearly hostile environment!_ Kurama really wondered if the brat would have survived as long as he had had he been on his own.

Because, seriously, if the kid weren't so thick, they wouldn't be in this unnecessary situation to begin with. (And Naruto probably wouldn't have suffered half the shit he had during his short nineteen years of mortal, ridiculous life.

Though, Kurama reasoned, it was part of his charm.

How many things could have ended in disaster if it weren't for his host's ridiculousness and bullheaded determination?)

“The question here is, who—are— _you?_ ” The interrogator asked sharply, and Naruto's uncertain answer made Kurama want to roll his eyes in desperation. He stood by what he said. The kid could be really, astoundingly stupid.

“Uh… Naruto?”

“Your _full_ name, kid.”

“Er… ” _Help me, Furball! What do I say? What do I do? Why doesn't Ibiki-san recognize me? Am I under genjutsu? Is_ he _under genjutsu?!_

 _'Just tell him the truth. You're_ _a_ _horrible_ _liar_ _,'_ Kyuubi answered with a sneer, cutting the kid's inner panic. Anyone would have thought that being in constant contact with a _fox demon_ would have made the boy very good at deceit, but no matter how crafty Naruto could be with pranks and traps and disguises, he was totally incompetent when it came to lying—at least to those he considered his allies or his 'precious people'. (He was acceptably proficient at it in other cases, Kurama consoled himself).

The giant fox sounded unconcerned to the untrained ear, but actually wasn't. The chakra suppressant manacles they had saddled his host with were making it difficult for Kurama to pick up the slight disturbances in the air that would indicate a genjutsu, but he had trouble believing it could be anything else. What other explanation was there for the man not to recognize the Hokage-in-training?

“ _Well?_ ” Morino snarled, and the boy jumped.

“Uzumaki Naruto, sir,” Naruto squeaked immediately. Kurama effectively rolled his eyes this time, tails flickering slightly in annoyance behind him. How was the kid still so afraid of the interrogator after all the years of knowing the man, he wasn't sure. “Nineteen years old, Jounin, Kyuubi Jinchuuriki, sir.”

Through Naruto's eyes, Kurama could clearly see the confusion and the alarm spreading over Morino's face, before both were expertly hidden behind a tight mask of cool disinterest and a hint of scorn.

Kurama groaned and smashed his head against a mental wall.

Why? What had he done—apart from razing some small villages to the ground—to deserve such scatterbrained idiot as his host?

 _'That was too much information,_ stupid! _'_ He growled in annoyance.

_What?! Seriously?! But you told me to tell the truth!_

_'I did, yes. But I never told you to give that much away! What if this_ is _a genjutsu and you've somehow ended in the hands of a wannabe Akatsuki weirdo or something? Huh?'_

 _That's not…! Uh, er. It could be. Do you think this is it? Oh, damn. What should I do?_ Naruto panicked.

_'What do I know? Your chakra is being suppressed. If you were to let some of my youkai free, the manacles will probably be saturated and break, and then you could make a run for it, but it might not be the best idea, as we don't know why is it that we are here, or why he doesn't recognize you.'_

_Then what…?_

_'Shut up! The bag of flesh is speaking. Pay attention!'_

“… Really,” Morino drawled, scepticism clear as a day. The kunai was pressed closer to Naruto's throat. It nicked skin. Kurama growled and bared his teeth in warning, even though he was invisible for everyone but himself. The kid might be stupid and as thick as a brick, but the fox was rather fond of him and didn't like it that he was being so blatantly threatened. “Why do I not believe you?”

“I don't know…” A small rivulet of blood warmed its way down Naruto's neck. Kurama snapped his teeth. Naruto gulped nervously. “But I can prove it,” he offered, and Kurama could almost feel the kid's apprehension at the fox's sudden boiling anger.

The older man narrowed his eyes and scanned the youngster's face suspiciously. Abruptly, cerulean eyes flashed red and then Kurama grinned wickedly, morphing his host's expression into a feral one that made the other man take a startled step back.

“If you don't believe the kid, then _I_ can prove it to you,” Kurama growled in his own voice, deeper and huskier than Naruto's will ever be. “And if I'm not enough, then you may call that Yamanaka friend of yours…” He added graciously, before adopting a dangerous tone. “But I'm warning you now, try _anything_ untoward, anything which may harm my host… and I'll rip you all to _shreds._ ”

To be sure that he successfully got his point across, the bijuu effortlessly fried the seals on the manacles with a simple overcharge of his purified youkai, and then grinned. It was not a pleasant grin, but a very dangerous one. It showed all of Naruto's teeth, and even if they weren't as sharp as his own, they were much more intimidating than normal human teeth. Especially if the expression was accompanied with demonic red eyes and an aura of complete confidence.

Judging by the expression on Morino's face, Kurama's play was incredibly successful.

That was _good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Kurama! It might be because of his characterization in fanfic, but I love him so much (he'll forever be male for me, though I've read some fem!Kyuubi that I've accepted.)
> 
> This PoV was a blast to write xD I just hope I was somewhat true to his redeemed character xD
> 
> Don't hesitate to make suggestions or criticizing whatever you may find faulty with my writing or the story! (As long as it is constructive and not hurtful, it only helps me to improve! :D)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooops? This chapter I started awkwardly, without knowing exactly what I wanted to write, and before I even noticed it became a monster compared to all the ones before it. Ehehe. Enjoy?

**6**

 

Being called to assist during an interrogation was nothing new to Yamanaka Inoichi. His clan signature jutsu came in very handy whenever they had difficult subjects—those that didn't crack even after the more… questionable methods for acquiring information—or when there were unforeseen complications. Even though he was good at it, he wasn't part of T&I for a reason. He hated invading other people's minds, and hated even more having to torture them from within just to gain information. T&I was aware of and respected his position, so he usually was only called in as a last resort.

That day, though, the atmosphere was noticeably different from other times.

Firstly, the one who called for him was the Sandaime himself, through the help of one of his personal ANBU. That was not that strange per se; what made alarms ring inside Inoichi's head were the added urgency to the words in the message and the uncharacteristic tenseness in the body language of the usually stoic messenger.

“Yamanaka Inoichi-dono is needed urgently in cell five, Torture and Interrogation Division, by demands of the Lord Hokage. He insists that Yamanaka-dono do not dawdle for anything, as this is a matter of Village Security,” were the words spoken, and they immediately made Inoichi forget about his plans for the day and rush out of his Flower Shop towards the proffered location, no questions asked.

Secondly—he mused as he jumped to the roofs, adding chakra to his legs to enhance his speed—, 'Village Security' was a vague code used only when referring to their Jinchuuriki; as for any other situation that could present itself there were much more specific codes. The Kyuubi was a wild-card, though, and it wouldn't have been intelligent to make obvious reference to it—it could cause unnecessary panic or give away more information that they were comfortable with to possible spies. (Yes, they were paranoid. They were shinobi, after all.)

Thirdly… well, he could feel the tension once he arrived at T&I quarters. The same ANBU who had summoned him guided him towards cell number five, and he could see two more of his companions waiting stiffly beside the Hokage who, until Inoichi arrived, had been watching intently what was happening behind the one-way mirror.

Once the Sandaime noticed his arrival, though, he tore his gaze away from the cell and greeted Inoichi with a nod of his head.

“Thank you for coming, Inoichi-kun,” the man said sombrely. “I know you don't particularly like to be called down here, but… your talents are needed, today.”

“I gathered as much, Hokage-sama,” Inoichi replied respectfully, glancing towards the prisoner. He was glad to notice that it wasn't the certain small blonde girl he was half-heartedly expecting, but he was at the same time extremely confused because it wasn't. What was happening?

The prisoner—a blond man, young—seemed completely at ease sitting with his hands crossed over his chest, slightly slumped over his chair, legs extended in front of him, one over the other in a rather lazy position. He didn't look like much at first sight, but there was a reason everybody was so tense, so Inoichi forced himself to pay more attention to detail.

He understood why was he called almost immediately.

The chakra suppressant manacles—which had been at one point restricting the man's movements—were broken, resting uselessly on the floor, and seemed to have been corroded by an acid of some kind. (Or, Kami forbid it, an overcharge of chakra. As much as he didn't want to consider it, as those manacles had seals created by Jiraiya-sama himself, the last seemed the most plausible explanation. It also supported his theory about why everybody seemed so uneasy.)

“Who is that?” Ibiki asked, carefully cataloguing everything about the man's looks. When he reached the face, though, he felt his blood freeze in his veins. “That's—”

“It's not Minato,” the Sandaime interrupted him firmly, “He told us that his name was Naruto. _Uzumaki_ Naruto—nineteen years old, Jounin, _Kyuubi_ _Jinchuuriki_ ,” he explained, stressing the parts that were… problematic.

“And you believe him?” Inoichi asked incredulously, but then noticed he was being rude and apologised, “Sorry, Hokage-sama, that was out of order.”

The Sandaime chuckled humourlessly. “It's fine, Inoichi-kun. I can understand your surprise. And to answer your question—” he contemplated it for a second, “—No. We didn't. Not when he stated it for the first time, but then—”

“Yamanaka-san,” a gruff, loud voice interrupted them from behind the glass, and Inoichi turned sharply only to find himself eye to eye with demonic red. It was impossible for anybody to see through the one-way mirror from inside the interrogation room, and neither should the subject be able to listen to what was being said behind said glass, but it seemed as if this self proclaimed Uzumaki knew exactly where Inoichi was standing. “Good for you to join us,” he said amicably, though his fierce look and bloodthirsty smile belied his words. “Would you care to come in here, take a look in our head, confirm our story, and proclaim us a non-threat for Konoha so we might be able to get out of this dump and start to understand what the fuck has happened to us? I'm bored here, and Naruto is bitching nonstop inside our head and I really don't fancy getting a headache.”

Dumbfounded, Inoichi turned to his Hokage, who nodded tiredly.

“Yes. That—” he said darkly. “That's why we need your assistance.”

And that is how Yamanaka Inoichi, head of the Yamanaka Clan of Konohagakure, found himself sitting in front of a man who looked like a carbon copy of Namikaze Minato, but for the red eyes and the wide whisker marks on his cheeks.

“You will have to sit still and close your eyes,” he explained awkwardly to the man—being?—who looked too amused for Inoichi's tastes. “I need to be in contact with your head as to provide a link—”

“—to my psyche, yeah, yeah. We're familiar with the proceedings,” he drawled lazily, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture. “Get on with it. Just—” he narrowed his eyes, “—as I warned your partner here, do _anything_ untoward… _anything_ … and I'll destroy you, Naruto's precious person or not,” he threatened, and Inoichi cautiously nodded his understanding.

He couldn't be sure if the man was bluffing, had a case of split personality, or was really telling the truth—as impossible as that sounded. Well, he wouldn't know until he went inside his head and confirmed it one way or another, so he took a deep breath, put his hand over the man's forehead, and closed his eyes.

“Psycho Mind Transmission,” he muttered, activating the jutsu. When he opened his eyes again, he was inside the prisoner's mindscape.

He had to blink and do a double take, disoriented. Never before had he encountered a mind that looked like this one, as a series of pipes over a floor covered with water. It strongly resembled a sewage, sans the smell.

“Lovely, isn't it,” said sarcastically the same voice he had interacted with outside, though it now reverberated with much more power.

“Kurama, don't be an ass,” a second voice chastised the first, and Inoichi was shocked to see a young man with cerulean blue eyes puffing up his cheeks in indignation. He wasn't looking towards him, though, but towards a huge, red, _nine-tailed demon_ _fox_. Inoichi gaped. “You know that it won't change, no matter what I try. At least the stupid cage is gone.”

“Yes, well. It doesn't really matter, does it? You should be paying attention to our guest—he seems to be a little out of it,” the _giant demon fox_ commented, looking over the Yamanaka with mirth. _Mirth._

 _I must be dreaming,_ he thought dazedly, _It's the only explanation._ _I won't_ _ever again_ _let Shikaku convince me to drink that much sake._ _Never._

“Oh, right!” The kid—who acted nothing as he had outside—exclaimed and fixed Inoichi with an apologetic look. “Sorry, Inoichi-san, Kurama can be such a hassle, the bastard—especially when he takes over and scares the shit out of scary people like Ibiki-san without consulting with me first!” He finished, growling, once again facing the _giant demon fox_ without an ounce of fear and Inoichi _could not understand._

“Your guest, brat,” the fox reminded the blond, yawning obnoxiously and curling comfortably on the floor. Inoichi had the sudden urge to laugh hysterically, because the giant demon fox that had terrorized Konoha mere seven years before looked awfully ready to take a nap, as if he were just a common fox, or cat, or maybe a dog.

It didn't make _sense_.

“Right, right,” the kid said, and smiled sheepishly towards Inoichi. “I'm Uzumaki Naruto,” he introduced himself, and then pointed with his thumb at the dozing demon, “and that's Kurama—though you may know him as the Kyuubi.”

“My pleasure,” the Kyuubi— _Kurama_ —grumbled, and Naruto rolled his eyes.

“He's an old, grumpy furball, that's what he is. He may have been a powerful, scary demon years and years ago, but don't let him fool you, he's not evil at all.”

Kurama snapped his teeth in warning, growling lowly in his throat. Inoichi jumped in fright. Naruto just scoffed and ignored the pissed off demon, and Inoichi _still could_ _not_ _understand_.

“What… what do you mean?” He asked, finally finding his voice.

“Well, he did attack Konoha, but that wasn't his choice,” he explained patiently, as he had to do this many times before. “It was Obito's fault—before he was reformed and abandoned his Madara guise. He used his special sharingan-thingy to control him or something like that.”

Kurama groaned in distaste. “Sharingan-thingy? Something like that? Seriously?”

“Oh, shut up! If you don't like how I explain things, then do it yourself!”

“There's no point in that, just let the man scan through your memories—that should be enough to convince him.”

“Oh,” Naruto sounded surprised. “That's good! Well, what do you think, Inoichi-san?” He asked earnestly, and the Yamanaka couldn't say no, even when he had already confirmed what he had came in for in the first place. But—

Knowing a little bit more about this Naruto and how he came to be in their Konoha—where their own Kyuubi Jinchuuriki resided, seven years old and in good health—was an opportunity he could not, in good conscience, turn down.

So he accepted.

When ten minutes later he exited the mind of Uzumaki Naruto—nineteen years old, Jounin, Kyuubi Jinchuuriki—he was shaken and sweaty and completely in awe of the blond kid in front of him, who was watching him with worried cerulean eyes, sitting inside cell number five inside the Torture and Interrogation Building.

“He—” Inoichi started, unsure of what could he say, after all he had witnessed. “He's telling the truth. He's Uzumaki Naruto, son of Uzumaki Kushina and Namikaze Minato, Jinchuuriki of the Kyuubi, Hero of the Fourth Shinobi War and soon to be Seventh Hokage,” he stated, completely ignoring the reactions his revelations caused in the others in the room (it seemed that at some point they had been joined by the Third and his ANBU protection detail). “It's—It's an honor to meet you, Naruto.”

The young man—the incredibly brave, powerful, and amazing young man—blushed and rubbed the back of his head, laughing bashfully.

“Oi, don't say things like that, Inoichi-san,” he protested weakly. “Kurama says they'll go to my head.”

“Inoichi!” Ibiki growled angrily. Inoichi looked at his friend, expression still slack after seeing so much concerning Naruto's life. “Can you explain what are you talking about?!”

“Certainly, I'm very interested in listening to the full story, too,” added the Sandaime seriously, and Inoichi was about to answer affirmatively when something unexpected occurred.

Naruto turned brusquely towards the Hokage and gasped. “Jiji? Is that really you?” He choked out, voice tremulous.

He sounded so painfully young, and Inoichi suddenly remembered that in Naruto's Konoha—whether it was in a different world, time line, dimension or whatever—, the Sandaime had died when he was only twelve; the first loved one the boy had ever lost.

Warily, the Lord Third nodded, appraising Naruto carefully. The young man studied him back for a small moment, and then his lower lip trembled. Suddenly, he threw himself to the older man, crying in happiness and relief and sadness, startling everyone and making the ANBU surround him with kunai pressing dangerously close to his vital points. He ignored them.

“It's really you! I can't believe it! I missed you so much, jiji!” He exclaimed, sounding so honest that the Sandaime finally relaxed and, after gesturing the ANBU to retreat, gingerly embraced the trembling teenager.

“Well,” the man stated, still wary but now with a touch of warmth softening his tone, “I believe you have much to tell me… Naruto.”


	7. Chapter 7

**7**

 

 

Ayame finished wiping the long table and huffed out a tired breath.

It always annoyed her when people who didn't know what they were talking about commented on her tasks and called them easy. They weren't, not really. Yes, they might not have needed much thought or technique or any particular ability, but they were physically tiring, especially if you were a twelve years old girl with no ninja training whatsoever.

Her father was an excellent ramen chef, a good man and an even better father. He let Ayame help with small things at the stand, while teaching her his business whenever the flow of customers lessened. He was stern and always expected the best from his employees, and Ayame wanted to become a chef that his father would be proud of someday, so she learned.

Teuchi didn't let her feed her ramen to clients, though, not until she had more practice. It annoyed her a bit, because how could she gain experience if no one tasted her food?

She had been brooding about it one day when one of their regular customers—the sweet, happy blonde girl with a bottomless pit of a stomach—had refused another serving of pork ramen because she didn't have enough money to pay for it. Her tummy had loudly grumbled in protest, blue eyes resting sadly and regretfully over the empty bowl of noodles. Ayame had felt bad for her, because it was obvious that she was still hungry, so she decided to ask her father if she could possibly take Naru-chan as her somewhat official ramen taster.

Teuchi had grinned proudly when she presented him with the idea, stating that in that way both Ayame and Naru-chan would gain something they needed, and saying how clever and good he thought his beautiful daughter was, making Ayame flush, pleased.

Since then, Naru-chan had come over to Ichiraku's much more frequently, always with a beaming smile and an endless supply of cheer that made even a gloomy day look brighter.

It was not surprising then that, not long after Ayame had finished with the cleaning, the small girl entered the stand. What was alarming and even worrisome was the lack of bouncing steps and exuberant greetings.

The older girl rapidly approached her. “Naru-chan? What happened? Are you feeling sick?” She asked with concern, putting a hand over the girl's forehead to check for a fever. Her tone must have alerted Teuchi, as the man got out of the kitchen, frowning.

“What's wrong with our best customer?”

Naruko pouted and batted Ayame's hand away.

“I'm not sick,” she said, and the reassurance together with the lack of high temperature let Ayame relax some. “But something weird happened today and jiji didn't explain nothing to me, so I don't know what!” She whined, looking irritated and slightly upset. “And it's not fair because Mister was in _my_ apartment and he was being nice—if a bit weird, so jiji should have said something to me before he went away and took him!” She ranted.

“There was someone in your apartment?” Teuchi asked with narrowed eyes. Ayame recognized that gesture—he was feeling protective. She understood, though. She was feeling that way, too. Who wouldn't, when a child so young confessed to have been talking to a strange man in her own apartment—where she lived alone? Not to mention that the child in question was a little girl who was not particularly liked by the majority of the village (which Ayame thought stupid, but what could she do apart from supporting Naruko and letting her have a safe place to return to?)

“Uh-huh,” the blonde girl confirmed, nodding with her head, “I was eating my cup of instant ramen—” Teuchi flinched, but didn't interrupt— “when suddenly Mister opened the door and entered, taking off his sandals and going straight for the cupboards. And then he saw me and he kinda froze, and I froze because I was so surprised, and then I asked him what he was doing and he said he got confused, and then I told him I would be the next Hokage and he didn't laugh! He said that he believed me!” She blabbered excitedly, blue eyes round and flashing with excitement and incredulity. “Then he said his name was Naruto—it sounds so much like Naruko! Don't ya think so? And he's as blond as me!” She exclaimed. “But then he passed out and I couldn't wake him so I thought he died so I went for jiji and he told me he wasn't dead so I calmed down, but then he took him away! He called those weird masked ninja that never say nothing and said 'don't you worry, Naru-chan, we'll take care of him' and then _fwooosh_! They were gone! And now I don't know who Mister is, or what happened to him, nothing!” She growled in indignation.

Ayame traded looks with her father, concern and relief mixing with a small dose of curiosity. What was all that about?

“Weeell, I'm sure that Hokage-sama will tell you everything once you see him again, and if this Mister—”

“Naruto.”

“Yes, if this Naruto is a good man and he just got confused, you can bet you'll see him again,” Ayame tried to appease her, though she really doubted it. If the Hokage had taken the man with ANBU—

Suffice it to say that she didn't believe they would be seeing a blond man that called himself Naruto round the village ever again.

“Would you like some miso ramen, Naru-chan?” Teuchi asked kindly, “It'll be on the house, today,” he added. With those words he was subtly telling Ayame that she keep the younger girl company while he cooked—he didn't want to leave her alone when there was a possibly dangerous person in the vicinity.

“Sure!” Naruko grinned happily and sat near the counter, on her usual spot. She idly kicked her legs back and forth as she watched Ayame put away her cleaning supplies and prepare the place for her.

“So… It'll soon be your birthday,” the older girl commented with a soft smile, putting down a glass of water and a pair of chopsticks in front of the small girl, “and you told me that the Hokage gave you permission to start the Academy once you were seven… are you excited?”

“Yes! Like, ya can't imagine! I'll be the bestest kunoichi in the history of Konoha, I'll surpass the Yondaime! I'll be the next Hokage, without a doubt, because I'm awesome like that, dattebane!” She proclaimed, jumping on her stool and pointing to the roof with her index finger in one of her 'heroic posses'.

Ayame chuckled softly and heard her father doing the same in the next room—Naruko was always so lively and so passionate about her dreams, they admired her. She was cute, too, and Ayame could admit it without any shame.

“I don't doubt it for a moment,” said an aged voice, warm and soothing and full of amusement. It was easily identified as their current Hokage's. “I have high hopes for you, Naru-chan.”

“Hokage-sama!” Ayame exclaimed, surprised. She straightened her spine behind the counter and hurriedly bowed her head in respect. “Welcome to Ramen Ichiraku.”

“Thank you, Ayame-chan. You don't need to bow,” he said kindly and with a touch of fondness. The girl blushed, uncomfortable. Since becoming Naruko's favorite dinner place, they had received the Lord Third multiple times, but she was still awed every time he showed up. “I will request you two more of whatever delicious ramen Naru-chan here is waiting for.”

“Hey, jiji! Where's Mister? Is he with ya?” The blond girl asked just as Ayame was saying “Right now, Hokage-sama,” and a new person entered the restaurant with a cry of “Wait, old man!” which made it very difficult for anybody to understand what was happening and what was being said.

They all froze for a moment in confusion. Ayame looked wide eyed at the frighteningly familiar new customer, while said customer studied her with amazement and a hint of recognition. At the same time, Sandaime-sama's amused gaze traveled from one person to another and Naruko gaped at the newcomer with a finger pointing squarely in his direction. For a couple of seconds, nobody breathed.

“Ya're here!” Naruko finally accused, breaking the awkward atmosphere, and suddenly time seemed to resume its natural course. “Ya really are here! Ayame-chan said jiji would let me see ya if ya were a good guy, and now ya're here with jiji so it must mean ya _are_ a good person!” She deduced shrewdly. “I knew ya couldn't be a bad person when ya said that I'd be an awesome Hokage!” She cried happily and hurriedly took the stranger's sleeve, tugging it and guiding him to sit beside her.

Ayame was expecting the teenager to shake her off and sneer, or awkwardly try to disentangle himself with muttered excuses, trying to hide an uncomfortable expression—things that normally happened around Naruko—but was pleasantly surprised when he only laughed happily and let her manhandle him, no hint of disgust or misplaced fear on his face.

“You bet!” The man said merrily but without any sarcasm. He was being completely honest as he said, “You'll be one of the best Hokages ever, dattebayo!”

And Ayame was confused, and startled (because the verbal tic? It was impossible not to notice it), and completely unbalanced because she had never met another soul that not only took Naruko's words at face value but actually believed in them, too.

“Who are you, Mister?” She asked before she could stop the words from exiting her mouth. The blond stopped chattering with Naru-chan and looked at Ayame once again, and the girl blushed slightly at her rude interruption. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

He didn't seem bothered, though, as he smiled gently, eyes crinkling at the corners in a gesture that looked natural in that face—a face that resembled greatly that of the small seven-years-old sitting at his side.

“It's fine—Ayame-chan, was it?” he wondered, and Ayame nodded her head affirmatively. “My name is Naruto—Namikaze Naruto. I moved here just a while ago from the Land of Wave, and this morning I accidentally entered Naruko's apartment instead of my own,” he explained awkwardly. “I—Err—I was recently informed that I'm actually her uncle.”

“WHAT?!”

The scream came from the girl in question, who was looking from the recently named Namikaze Naruto to the Hokage and back again in an increasingly agitated fashion. The teenager flinched and looked at the Third pleadingly.

The man cleared his throat and said, “Naru-chan… You must understand that Naruto here didn't know of your existence before he saw you this morning,” he explained gently, but the girl didn't seem to be paying attention to him. She was now steadily looking at her uncle—her uncle!—with a mix of betrayal and hope that was almost painful to witness.

“If ya are my uncle, then why—” She started, choking on her words and trying to keep the tears at bay before continuing, “—If ya are my uncle, then why did I have to grow up alone?” She asked in a small, wavering voice, and if Ayame hadn't been paying attention to the Third's words, she'd be extremely angry with the man for affecting her little friend like that right now.

“I'd like to hear that reason, too,” her father said darkly, stepping out of the kitchen with a huge knife glinting dangerously on his hand. He seemed surprised when he finally laid eyes on Naruto's form, color draining from his face and menacing pose disappearing. “Minato?” He breathed incredulously and the teen flinched again, shaking his head vigorously.

“No I—I'm his little brother,” he corrected with a small grimace. “We didn't—we got separated when we were kids, and lost contact. Um…” he turned back to the small girl that looked so much like him it was uncanny. “Naru-chan, I didn't know you existed I—” he huffed angrily and messed up his hair with his right hand. “Believe me when I tell you that if I had known I had any family left—any family at all—I'd have come to Konoha sooner, I'd have taken you in, no questions asked,” he said intensely, looking the child dead in the eyes with sincerity that was hardly found in anybody but the youngest of children, before the world robbed them of their innocence. “Had I known you existed, I'd never have left you to grow up alone,” he swore, “ _Never._ ” And Ayame believed him.

Naruko seemed to believe him, too, because she threw herself towards him in a tackle-hug, which was returned with fervor, crying her eyes out in happy tears and lonely tears that she had probably been avoiding for a long time.

Ayame herself discreetly wiped out tears of her own off her face, and watched as her father did so, too.

The day was finishing on a good note once again, and it was thanks to their best little customer—again.

Ayame was honestly happy for her. She hoped that Naruko could start to find her place in the world, now, and that her uncle helped her in her fight against a village that didn't want to recognize her. She hoped he gave her the family she always craved for and helped her reach her goals, her dreams…

She deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long-ish chapter! This time in a female's point of view! (I was thinking, oh my! they have all been male and they have all been adults, let's break the pattern!) And it has the added bonus that she doesn't really know what it's happening, so she accepted the story at face value—even when we all know that it's bullshit. Ehem.
> 
> If you are confused, don't worry, it'll slowly become clear as the story advances. But you are free to leave me your theories, too! (It's probably pretty obvious, though—but maybe not the reasons behind the decision.)
> 
> Anyway, there are **two things that I want to highlight:**
> 
>  **First:** The story won't have romance or pairings of any kind as its main driving plot. If they appear at all they'll be low-key and of the blink-and-you'll-miss-it type.
> 
>  **Second** : I have two weeks of exams in the horizon, so I probably won't be updating as frequently as I've been doing. Sorry!
> 
> That said, thank you for reading! :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for the long wait—I had a minor case of writer's block, plus exams... Yeah, it wasn't pretty.
> 
> Anyway here is chapter 8! I hope you like it! :D

**8**

 

Inoichi laughed merrily at Shikaku's pained _'troublesome'_. The Jounin commander gave him a scathing glare but quickly let it go, expression contorting into a mix of pensive, irritated and impassive—which was really strange and almost impossible for anybody else, but for the Nara it wasn't that uncommon.

“Oh, come on, Shika,” the blond man said, still unable to disguise his chuckles completely. “It's not that bad.”

The man opened one eye to give his friend a deadpan look. Inoichi snorted once more but then visibly tried to get himself together.

“Even though the boy is so—particular,” he continued, hesitating slightly on the last word, “I've seen what he is capable of. I don't doubt for a moment that he can play his part as we've planned. Even if the Kyu—Kurama says that he is shit at lying.” Shikaku tightened his jaw and didn't look any more reassured at that. He had been told, of course, when he was called. About Naruto, about the Kyuubi, about the impossibility of his misplacement through dimensions and time and circumstances that made his logical mind hurt. “He doesn't really have to, though. Saying he's Minato's brother is different from saying he's his son, but they're still related by blood and they are family either way.”

And hadn't that been a shock?

Shikaku had been prepared for about anything when the two messenger ANBU appeared at his compound demanding his presence at the Hokage Tower. He had been slightly upset, as he had just barely managed to convince his genius little boy to play Shogi with him, but the urgency was clear. He assured the ANBU of his immediate departure, changed his everyday robes for his Jounin uniform and kissed Yoshino and Shikamaru goodbye. He muttered a half-hearted complaint followed by a heavy, resigned sigh before he leaped to the nearest tree and travelled as fast as he could towards the centre of the village.

Why was he being called this time? Threats of a new war? Problems in the ranks? He couldn't say he knew of any, really, except maybe for the fact that nobody really wanted to team up with Gai, but that hardly required his Hokage's concern—

He stopped before the Tower's entry and made his way to the Third's office, politely bowing to the man's Chuunin secretary who smiled tightly at him and let him through without question. She must have been informed of his prompt arrival and given instructions to act accordingly.

“Nara Shikaku reporting for service, Lord Third,” he announced as he opened the door, head down in a show respect, “what can I do for you, Hokage-sama?” He asked, lifting his gaze without waiting for permission, already knowing what the man's next words would be. This same pattern has been repeated since the moment he was promoted to his current position, and for that same reason he didn't hesitate to break formalities. (The Third did not care for them when they were alone or with trusted people, after all.)

“Ah, Shikaku-san. Thank you for coming. Please, enter, and lift your head. Close the door behind you.”

Shikaku did as he was commanded, and only then did he survey the rest of the room—and most importantly, its occupants.

The Hokage and the three ANBU in the shadows were a given; Morino-san and Inoichi were not really surprising, if a bit unexpected. However, the fourth visible person in the room was not somebody he expected to see, and it was him who suddenly gained all of Shikaku's attention. Blond hair, cerulean blue eyes, and a mischievous—though slightly sheepish—smile.

“Lord Fourth…?” He asked, surprised, but immediately dismissed it. Looking carefully past the distinctive colouring, there were slight differences in the line of his jaw and the shape of his eyes. He looked… softer, perhaps. With a stocky complexion, shorter than Minato, he definitely was younger than the man had been before his early demise.

The grimace and the quick shake of the blond's head only reinforced his observation.

“No! Ah—I'm Naruto,” he denied, and then gulped. Shikaku raised his eyebrow incredulously because… well, that name rung a bell, though he was sure Minato's child was a little girl who was about the same age as Shikamaru. The young man looked at his companions searchingly and the Jounin commander took note of the easy camaraderie and confidence there was with Inoichi—and with the Hokage, to certain extent. Morino-san looked sour, but Shikaku knew that was the man's default expression, so he didn't give it much thought. The Hokage nodded encouragingly and the teenager bit the inside of his lip momentarily before squaring his shoulders and turning towards Shikaku once again. He stated, boldly, “I'm Uzumaki Naruto. Minato's son from—eh, from another time?” He finished uncertainly, glancing awkwardly in Inoichi's direction.

As Shikaku covertly tried to hide his gawking, Inoichi rhythmically tapped his jaw with his index finger in a gesture that the Jounin commander recognized as the one he did when deeply concentrated. He hummed beneath his breath while thinking over the blond boy's statement.

Shikaku didn't know what he was expecting his friend to respond, but it surely wasn't “Well, I've been thinking that it probably is both a different time and a different dimension, because that's the only logical conclusion if we take into account the differences in sexes between you and your little counterpart.”

The boy—Naruto, apparently—nodded his acceptance easily and grinned at Shikaku.

“What he said!” He chirped, and his easy disposition and obviously cheerful nature were so startlingly reminiscent of Kushina that any lingering doubt Shikaku had disappeared into nothingness.

He suddenly felt a lump in his throat, feelings trying to overwhelm his impassive expression, because if this young man could be so much like his parents… what about the little female version of him? Did she look more like Kushina because she's a girl? Did she act more like her father, or her mother? Was she as lively as this young man here? Why didn't he know?

Yoshino had been a very dear friend of Kushina, even though the redheaded Uzumaki considered Mikoto her closest friend. Shikaku himself had been in very good terms with Minato, even when the blond man was some years younger. And after their deaths… Why hadn't they tried to be in contact with Naruko? The council prohibited her adoption, sure. But that was no excuse for leaving her like they had. Where did she go? Has she been taken care of properly? Was she going to attend the Academy?

So many questions—not a single answer.

(Could any other clan claim something different? He sincerely hoped so, but at the same time he didn't hold his breath.)

“Tell me everything,” he pleaded. “From the beginning.”

The other people in the room interchanged glances but decided not to comment on his choked up words. Instead, they took turns in recounting what had happened during the previous hours and what they had decided to do from then on.

Naruto was amusingly frustrating with his storytelling, jumping from fact to fact and then going back and never giving much clarity in his descriptions—which apparently frustrated the Kyuubi to no end, and for that very reason he made an appearance when they were talking about the night he “attacked.”

“I won't stand for you to explain this with vague 'Sharingan-thingy' analogies, brat,” he had growled when he took over, scaring Shikaku half to death. The others had already seen the drastic change take place, so were visibly less unnerved by it, but still wary. “So I, as one of the most injured parties in this—”, he made a face and fought not to roll his eyes, Shikaku supposed the reaction was towards something that his host said in their shared mind. “As I was saying, as one of the most vilified parties in this mess, I have the right to explain everything here. But first—Baby Uchiha!” He snapped, head turning towards one of the concealed ANBU.

Shikaku followed his line of sight, wondering why he was impressed by that, considering that he knew he was in front of a _trained Jinchuuriki cooperating with the most powerful of the bijuu_ , who had been about to be named _Hokage in his own Konoha_.

The ANBU guard—Uchiha Itachi, Shikaku surmised from the height and what he knew of the ranks—tensed slightly but didn't show any other form of acknowledgement. Shikaku was impressed. Even if he was ANBU, the kid was just around thirteen. Shikaku himself would have probably flinched from such an unexpected and aggressive calling, but the boy did nothing.

Kurama groaned and rubbed his eyes tiredly, turning towards the Lord Hokage with an expression that wasn't quite pleading, but that clearly conveyed his need.

“Please, Karasu. Remove your mask and join us,” Sarutobi said kindly but with a note of steel in his tone. The ANBU hesitated minutely, but then resolutely stepped out of the shadows and took off his porcelain mask. It revealed the pale face of Uchiha Itachi, young and already marked with the stress of the job. Impassive, too serious to belong to a kid. Shikaku ached somewhere deep inside. He had never liked the idea of kids in the ranks, much less so high up being still so young, but it was not his place to complain.

“Lord Hokage,” the boy saluted. “Nara-dono, Yamanaka-dono, Morino-san, Nine Tails-san.”

Kurama snorted. “Just call me Kurama, brat,” he retorted. “I don't really care much for Uchihas, but you are maybe not so bad.” The grimace on his face didn't make his statement really believable, and his next words confirmed his dislike. “Argh, who am I kidding? I hate you all, and your stupid dojutsu, but Naruto for whatever unfathomable reason respects you and has a soft spot for the pain-in-the—Sasuke, your little hellion of a brother, so…” He shrugged, unconcerned with the death glare that his careless words about the smallest Uchiha had provoked in the eldest brother. “Yeah, whatever. Have you been approached yet by a man who calls himself Madara?” He asked, suddenly serious. It was a non-sequitur that took everybody by surprise, but the Uchiha quickly regained his composure and examined the man shrewdly.

“What, may I ask, do you know about that?” The boy asked politely, but with apprehension in his voice.

“Ah, damn,” Kurama growled, messing up blond hair angrily. “We're late for that, then. Well, doesn't matter. We'll—” he interrupted himself and then looked around the intrigued faces observing him attentively. He harrumphed and pointedly turned back towards the Uchiha. “That man,” Kurama said, “is your cousin, Uchiha Obito.” Before he could be interrupted by what Shikaku knew was going to be an avalanche of protests and questions—though not by Itachi, but Inoichi and Ibiki, most probably—he lifted a hand in a wordless request for silence. “No—he didn't die under that boulder in his mission to Iwa. He was saved by the real Madara, and quite thoroughly brainwashed and manipulated to the point he has forsaken his own name and beliefs for the sake of an impossible dream.”

They were silent for a moment, trying to absorb that information. Then, Kurama proceeded.

“The real Madara died—after making sure that Obito would continue his work by arranging—not directly but almost—Nohara Rin's death.”

It was too much in too little words. Shikaku was glad that Kakashi was not present to hear this—he feared for the boy's sanity, if they were to drop this bomb over him after all he's suffered.

“In fact, he's the one responsible for my breaking free the night Naruto was born. He literally tore me away from Kushina's seal when it was weak from giving birth, not before taking baby Naruto in a wild goose chase as a distraction for the Fourth,” he then looked at the Hokage, whose face looked carefully blank but his pale knuckles betrayed his inner turmoil. “He was the one that killed the Midwife and her assistants,” the demon confided, sounding almost apologetic. Almost. “He's the one behind Akatsuki, too. They are—or will start to—hunt the Jinchuuriki to extract the bijuu and awaken the juubi, who will summon Kaguya, who will try to destroy the world. So. It's a major problem, but Naruto insists that the brat cannot be killed, as he is still redeemable or some other shit,” Kurama grumbled. Shikaku had the distinct impression that demon and host had very different values and opinions regarding how to 'deal with their problems'. He was glad that Naruto had not been influenced too much by Kurama's obvious thirst for blood.

“Anyway, I was talking about Naruto's birth. I was taken from Kushina and then the damn Uchiha _snared_ me with his damn _Mangekyou Sharingan,_ ” he spat the name with so much disgust that Itachi actually flinched this time. “He controlled me. I wasn't completely aware of what I was doing—believe me, I'd have run far, far away if I had the choice,” he sniffed disdainfully. “But then appeared that damned _frog_ and the Yondaime and his stupid _Eight Triagram_ _s_ _Seal_ , and I was suddenly in so much pain because being forcibly separated of half of your being hurts like hell I tell you, and the next thing I know I woke up because my new host was calling on my power without even knowing because _Sasuke had been killed._ ”

Itachi very obviously froze at that, the demands for explanations clear in his tight expression and sharp obsidian eyes, but Kurama continued without taking notice of it.

“I was happy to help—well, that's not true. I was very pissed off, actually, because apparently I had been sealed into a new host, who was still just twelve years old and an idiot.” His eyes flickered blue and his expression changed to one highly offended during the necessary seconds Naruto needed to yell his disagreement with a loud “Hey!” It was really strange for the onlookers to see the man pinching his own cheek just before the eyes turned red once again. “Brat. It's true. You were insufferable when you were a kid. Admit it. Er… where was I?”

“Sasuke had been killed?” Inoichi reminded him when none of the others seemed ready to offer a response.

“Ah, yes. Well, I gave the brat a little bit more power than he could safely control and he went feral. Almost killed the other kid, the one who had supposedly killed the Uchiha. But he stopped,” he grimaced, “I didn't understand how, then. I wasn't really thinking straight, for that matter. I was only trying to get free.”

“Had— _supposedly_ —killed?” Itachi asked tightly, something akin hope and relief in his tone.

“Yeah. He was not dead, just looked like it,” Naruto responded this time. It seemed that the Kyuubi had decided that he was done with his part. “Sakura-chan and I had been so very relieved. It had been our first C-rank mission, you know, and it turned out it was actually an A-rank. If it weren't for Kakashi-sensei and even Kurama's intervention—the three of us would have probably died.”

It was a sombre silence, what followed.

“So… you know of the Coup?” asked the Sandaime, and every eye turned towards him askance. Shikaku was undeniably shocked, as he hadn't heard anything about that beforehand. Looking at his friend and the interrogator, he could safely affirm based on their incredulous expressions that they didn't know what the man was talking about, either.

Naruto grimaced, looking in that moment very similar to Kurama minutes earlier.

“I know. It's a bloody nightmare, and it can totally be avoided without bloodshed if we take certain steps. I don't want Itachi-san to be responsible for killing his entire family once again.”

The statement darkened the already bleak atmosphere even more.

“We're all ears,” the Sandaime had said, and for the next couple of hours the small group discussed many different things—from how to deal with the Uchiha's Coup d’etat to Naruto's story to join the village.

He had been adamant about taking care of his counterpart in any way he could, because _'I won't let her grow up alone as I did, if I can change that'_ —which made Shikaku's guilt increase as it seemed that the boy had been neglected all his life and it would probably have happened to Naruko if he hadn't appeared now—so they worked it out in a way that the Council could not refute his claim to her. It was flimsy at best and sketchy at worst, but they hoped it would stand. They only needed Naruto to play his part correctly.

At dinnertime, Sarutobi-sama declared they had done enough for the time being and invited Naruto to accompany him for a cup of ramen.

“Naruko will surely be there,” he added, though further bribe was unnecessary, as at the mention of the meal the boy's eyes had already lost focus and he was almost drooling at the prospect of eating it. Shikaku was amused, seeing that the love for noodles Kushina had had certainly passed down to her kid.

(He felt a twinge of pain when he wondered if Naruko was the same, and he decided then and there that he would talk with Yoshino about inviting the blondes to their home for dinner after they'd settled down.)

The rest of the group had been dismissed, and Ibiki promptly disappeared in the direction of the shinobi bars, mumbling about needing to drown himself in cheap sake to make this shit bearable. Shikaku sympathized.

The remaining two ninjas walked leisurely and in silence towards Inoichi's Flower Shop—which had closed some hours before, so it'd hopefully be empty; perfect to talk about what happened in relative peace.

He hadn't expected for his best friend to explode in wild, uncontrollable giggles the moment they closed the door.

Apparently, he had found Shikaku's incredulous and shocked expressions when he laid eyes on Naruto—and then Kurama—for the first time entirely too funny.

Shikaku groaned.

“So troublesome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sorry if there are mistakes (I'm really tired right now but I wanted to post this already), just point them out and I'll edit it! :)
> 
> I don't think I'll resume the daily-update thing I had going before exams started, because the lenght... On a good note, I've pretty much planned out the entire damn thing and it's long. Way too long but oh, hell. What does it matter? At least now I have some kind of plot to drive me xD
> 
> Suggestions and (constructive) criticism are always welcome! :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Like. WHERE DID MY CUTE LITTLE DRABBLE GO? This story is becoming a monster—A HUGE monster! (At least by my own writing standards.) I have an important question to ask at the end, please don't skip it! :) Thank you.
> 
> Enjoy!

**9**

 

He heard the front door opening quietly and was immediately up and running through the house. Sasuke had promised himself that he'd convince his nii-san to train with him today, at any cost. It wasn't fair, that his brother was always out of the house, that he was always on some mission or another, and he didn't have time for Sasuke anymore.

It hurt something deep inside.

“Nii-sama!” Sasuke bellowed, throwing the door aside and barrelling out of the house without caring for proper manners—or even putting on his sandals. His small feet stung when he pressed them over the surprisingly pointy gravel that made up the path to their home, but Sasuke ignored the painful sensation in favour of more important things. Like stopping his brother from leaving. “Wait, nii-sama!”

Itachi stopped dead in his tracks and turned towards Sasuke, surprise briefly flickering through his eyes before he sighed, walking over to his little brother.

“What are you doing, Sasuke?” He wondered, stopping the boy from advancing further and probably inflicting more harm to himself. He poked the boy's forehead with two fingers, as he said, “It's really early, why are you up?”

Sasuke did not pout. He just let his displeasure show in his face while he crossed his arms in front of him, after batting the offending fingers away. His pyjamas were rumpled and his hair was even messier than usual—but it made sense, since he literally had just rolled out of bed.

“You said you'd train me yesterday,” he stated grumpily. “But you didn't, and you promised!”

Itachi's mouth twitched in what could have been a smile or a grimace, Sasuke couldn't be sure. His brother was never really easy to read, but he was kind and powerful and so very intelligent and brave—Sasuke loved him. He was his hero. What did it matter if he sometimes couldn't understand what he was thinking? Sasuke was just a kid, anyway, so it wasn't weird.

“I'm sorry, something unexpected happened and I couldn't make it back before your bedtime,” Itachi apologized and Sasuke mulled it over the reason for a bit before graciously accepting it.

“It's fine,” he said, “but you must train with me today!” He ordered with narrowed eyes.

His brother looked uncomfortable then, his brows scrunched up in that barely noticeable way that Sasuke had learned it meant that Itachi was trying to say no without making Sasuke sad. The younger brother scowled, unwilling to accept that development.

“Nii-sama!” He protested. “You promised! Please?” Itachi wavered and Sasuke decided to take out the big guns. “Please?” He requested again, big dark eyes round and shining in his best imitation of a puppy. He let his lower lip tremble for a more devastating effect.

“I don't know if I can,” Itachi finally answered, weak in front of his brother's teary-eyed expression. Sasuke sniffed and Itachi stuttered. “It's because—I have to—Urgh.” Itachi covered his eyes with a hand and Sasuke perked up, sensing that he was about to change his mind. “I was going to see somebody new in the village, and help them move,” he explained, rubbing his face with his hand in a tired way. “I promised.” Sasuke scowled again.

So, he was going to be abandoned, and it was for an outsider? That was so unfair!

Suddenly, Itachi pinned him with a calculating look.

“Though—this man has a… niece who is your age,” he said to himself in a small voice, clearly not intending for Sasuke to hear, but the younger boy listened attentively anyway. “Maybe…” Itachi pondered. Sasuke fidgeted. “Do you want to accompany me, Sasuke?”

The small boy brightened and nodded with enthusiasm. What did it matter if it was to help some unknown man and an icky girl? He was allowed to be with Itachi!

His big brother smiled softly at him and nudged him towards the house.

“All right,” he said, “We'll both go, but first you must make yourself presentable. You can't just visit somebody wearing your nightclothes and no shoes.”

Alarmed, Sasuke looked himself over and let out a horrified gasp. He then turned on his heel and ran back towards the house. He opened the door but before he put a foot inside, he stopped, turning towards his brother suspiciously.

“Will you wait here for me, nii-sama,” he asked, though it sounded more like an order than a question. “I'll be back soon.”

He heard Itachi chuckle behind him as he hurriedly made his way to his room, but he ignored him in favour of getting ready as fast as he could. He was not going to risk his brother leaving him behind because Sasuke had not been quick enough to change. He hastily brushed his hair and teeth—after discarding his pyjamas and donning his normal clothes with the Uchiha crest on his back—and, as rapidly as he came in, he ran back outside.

Only when he spotted Itachi waiting patiently for him, sitting on the porch, did he relax.

“I'm ready!” Sasuke breathed out excitedly. His big brother looked at him with amusement.

“Did you use the toilet?” Itachi asked and Sasuke scowled.

“Of course I—” he started indignantly and then paused. Uh. He wiggled, uncomfortably aware that he hadn't and he really _needed to go_. “I'll be right back!” He declared in a high-pitched, haughty tone.

With the ease of practice, Sasuke ignored Itachi's chuckles with as much dignity as he could muster, and went inside once again.

 

* * *

 

Sasuke didn't like the building the two brothers entered. It was old, it was lonely and it smelled funny. The stairs creaked and the paint on the walls was chipped. He scrunched up his nose and turned towards Itachi.

“Are you sure this is where they live, nii-sama?” He asked, tugging on the teenager's hand to call his attention. Sasuke was internally happy that he was allowed to walk and hold hands with Itachi all the way from the Uchiha Compound, but he wouldn't admit it out loud because it was embarrassing—he was seven years old already! He was starting the academy in September; he didn't need to be babied!

“Yes, Sasuke. I'm sure,” he was told. He couldn't be completely sure, but Sasuke thought that Itachi didn't like the apartment complex that much, either.

Why would anybody want to live there, of all places?

“There it is. Number 306,” Itachi said, stopping before a door painted red with golden numbers over the peep hole. His brother knocked politely, and the duo waited to be acknowledged. However, minutes passed without a sign of anybody coming to get the door and, frustrated, Sasuke pounded louder.

There was a crash and a mumbled curse, followed by what sounded as a herd of elephants running to the door. Alarmed, both boys took a hasty step back, and just in time. The door was opened brusquely and a blond head poked through it, looking dishevelled and sweaty.

“Hi! Sorry, we're—Oh! Itachi-san!” The man blinked, blue eyes dropping to Itachi's, surprised. He had a simple white t-shirt and sweatpants on, and a horribly bright orange towel was hanging around his neck. Sasuke observed as he used the blinding piece of cloth to wipe off the sweat from his forehead and hands. “What are you doing here—? No, wait, don't mind me,” he fired rapidly and craned his neck towards the inside of the house. Sasuke was about to protest the rude treatment when he bellowed, “BOSS! ITACHI-SAN IS HERE!”

“WHAT?! OH! I FORGOT!” An identical scream could be heard from inside, which coupled with the fact that the man was obviously older than Itachi but called him “san” anyway confused Sasuke to no end.

“HOW COULD YOU FORGET THAT HE WAS COMING? ARE YOU AN IDIOT?!”

“OH, SHUT UP. YOU DIDN'T REMEMBER EITHER!”

“I'M JUST YOUR CLONE, WHY WAS I SUPPOSED TO REMEMBER SOMETHING LIKE THAT? YOU'RE DEFINITELY THE IDI—” The insult died together with the clone in a puff of smoke. Sasuke jumped, startled. Were clones supposed to do that?! He didn't remember them doing anything like that from what his nii-san had taught him. Maybe he would learn to do that in the Academy?

A man who was the carbon copy of the dispelled one appeared at the door, huffing an irritated breath as he pulled off the shuriken with which he had vanished the clone from its place lodged on the wall.

“Cheeky clones, always making fun of me, basta—” he mumbled until he spotted Sasuke's curious eyes upon his person, then bit his tongue and promptly put the shuriken back in his leg pouch. Sasuke rolled his eyes. As if he hadn't seen other people do that already. “Itachi-san! I'm sorry I forgot you said you'd come by. This must be Sasuke-kun?” He asked happily with a smile that was so bright, the boy had to look away. Was this man made of sunshine?!

“Yes, he's my little brother,” Itachi confirmed, patting Sasuke on the small of his back in subtle encouragement for him to get closer to the sunny stranger. “Otouto, this man is Namikaze Naruto. He arrived in Konoha just a couple of days ago,” he introduced them. The recently named Naruto beamed at Sasuke and waved his hand cheerfully. Was he really older than Itachi? He didn't act as if he were, even when it looked like he should.

“Nice to meet ya, Sasuke!” He chirped with a grin. Then he snapped his fingers and, much like his clone had done minutes before, turned his head away from them to scream to someone inside. “OI, FIRECRACKER! COME 'ERE! THERE ARE PEOPLE YOU HAVE TO MEET!”

“NII-SAN! STOP CALLING ME FIRECRACKER, I'M NOT RED!” An offended, younger and definitely girlish voice answered.

Sasuke grimaced in distaste. Were all the members of this family this loud?

Then, an alarming thought occurred to him: how much time would they have to endure with them?! If he remembered right—and of course he did—Itachi had said that he was helping them move and that's why he couldn't train Sasuke. Not even in the afternoon.

He groaned.

That meant hours! He was going to go deaf if they kept that up!

Naruto cackled madly and Sasuke eyed him distrustfully. Was he crazy?

“You may not be red but sure are explosive, kiddo!” He retorted, not wasting even a second before messing up the blonde hair of the newcomer Sasuke had not noticed arriving. She squealed indignantly and dove down and away from her attacker, hiding behind the nearest human being that could deter the man from doing so—Sasuke.

“Oi, _geroff!_ ” Sasuke mumbled, trying to pry small fingers from their death grip on his clothes. 'Firecracker' gasped when she noticed what she was doing and promptly let the boy go with a small shove. The impulse almost made them fall, but their respective nii-san's caught them before they could meet with the floor.

Sasuke scowled and got away from Naruto's arms quickly, spinning to get a better look at the blond menace his brother caught. He was going to call her out on her clumsiness with a nasty remark when he actually noticed her appearance. The Uchiha blinked, astounded, as he concluded that the girl and the man were—almost identical. Except from the fact that she was a girl and he was a boy, and she had her blonde hair falling down her back in two messy ponytails, they looked exactly the same.

It was eerie.

As much as he resembled his aniki—of which his was proud, because not only was Itachi a genius, he was also really handsome, or at least that is what everyone else claimed—there was no way they looked that similar.

The girl had the same big blue eyes, blonde hair and even the same whisker marks on her cheeks Naruto had. Maybe they were clan markings? He hadn't heard of any clan that bore those scars, though.

“Sorry! I'm Uzumaki Naruko! Nii-san Naruto's niece!” She proclaimed boisterously, grinning the same grin her uncle had. No—It couldn't be. “He's the best nii-san ever!”

At that, Sasuke forgot about his confused state. There was no way he could let her say something as ridiculous as that without protest.

“No way! Itachi-nii is the best nii-san ever!”

Unbeknown to them, the objects of their discussion traded amused glances as the kids bickered.

“Well, come in,” Naruto invited them, and Sasuke absently heard him as he listed every reason why _his_ nii-san was the best in the entire Fire Nation. Naruko retorted that _her_ _s_ was the best in the whole _Continent_. And so it went, even as they trudged inside and the four of them (and a couple of the blond man's clones) worked together to make the two bedroom apartment fit enough to live in.

Their bickering never did degenerate into a real fight, and sometime before lunch it had even lost its vague hostility, turning instead into playful banter. As Sasuke helped Naruko bring what was left of her things from the tiniest place the boy had ever seen two floors down, she told him about her life before Naruto.

(“I lived there until nii-san came. That's why we're moving, because he lived in one of those tiny ones too, before he knew I existed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nii-san didn't know he had a niece until yesterday. I didn't know anything about 'im either. Or any family. I was alone until he came to Konoha and entered my apartment by mistake.”)

When, right before dinnertime, the Uchiha brothers excused themselves to go back to the Uchiha Compound, Sasuke was smiling contentedly.

Itachi glanced from the corner of his eye and his lips twitched upwards.

“Did you have fun, Sasuke?” He asked curiously. Sasuke nodded affirmatively. Itachi looked pleased. “That's good.”

Sasuke beamed. He was not lying, he had a great time. As annoying as he found Naruko at the beginning, the girl was fun to play with. He realized that when they found themselves playing ninja in the middle of the living room, after the blonde had confided to him her desire to become the greatest Kunoichi of Konoha, and then become the next Hokage. Sasuke had scoffed and proclaimed that his nii-san would be Hokage first—which developed into a mock fight in the middle of the room. The scuffle escalated quickly into a full-blown ninja battle and the kids had soon been running around and laughing themselves silly.

And Naruto was weird. He acted much like a kid to be an adult, nothing like Sasuke would have expected from someone his aniki had so much respect for. (He was not stupid, he did notice the amicable deference Itachi treated the man with.) Instead of telling them off for playing around and forgetting to unpack the box of books they had been assigned—as any other adult Sasuke knew would have—, Naruto barked out a delighted laugh and promptly joined them in their game, crying out that he was now their enemy and that they had to _'attack him together with everything they_ _had_ _, or they'd never win'_.

They hadn't, even when they tried their hardest—Naruto-san was very tricky and, Sasuke had to admit (even if reluctantly and only to himself), very cool. Almost as cool as his brother. Not quite but—almost.

(At the end of the game, Sasuke had huffed out between heavy puffs of air that Itachi would definitely become the next Hokage, but maybe when he retired Naruko could—possibly—replace him. Maybe.)

It was the first time Sasuke had so much fun with people that weren't his brother. Well, now that he was thinking about it, it was also the first time he played with someone his own age that wasn't boring or family.

His cousins were either much older or younger than him, and Jiro—who was five and the closest to his age—was always crying for something, which Sasuke did not tolerate. From other clans he had only met Shikamaru and Hinata—both heirs to their respective families. The first one wasn't fun at all, because he never wanted to do anything but sleep or watch clouds (who did that apart from old men?), and the second one was the daughter of their rival clan—enough said.

So, this was the first time that Sasuke could honestly say that he had made a friend.

The notion filled his chest with warmth and threatened to make him smile forever. Going to the Academy suddenly held much more appeal than before, when he only wanted to make his brother—and to a lesser extent, his father—proud.

Uzumaki Naruko was his friend, and they'd both start the Academy and become awesome shinobi together. The best.

He then suddenly frowned. There was something that had been bothering him all day, but only now that he was not distracted with play and banter did he pay proper attention to it.

“Nii-sama?” He called, troubled. Itachi, sensing his brother's change of mood, stopped walking and turned towards Sasuke, patiently waiting for him to speak his mind. Sasuke hesitated before asking, “Why do Naruko and Naruto have different clan names? They have the same markings—shouldn't they both be Namikaze? Or—or Uzumaki? And why are their names so similar?”

“Ah,” Itachi said, tipping his head slightly backwards, a focused expression on his face. “I was wondering when would you ask,” he commented, smiling back down at Sasuke. “Did Naruko-chan tell you that the both of them only met yesterday?” Sasuke nodded in confirmation. “Well, that's because Naruto-san is the younger brother of Naruko's dad, and as far as we know, she was given that name in his honour. Apparently, Minato-san believed his baby brother had died after they were separated as kids. As for the clan name—Naruko's mother was an Uzumaki, and as the Sandaime did not know about her having any family left when she was orphaned, he decided she'd safer with that one instead of Namikaze.”

“Why, though?” Sasuke asked, not understanding why one name could be safer than the other. A name was a name, right? And Naruko was an orphan? Well, Sasuke had gathered as much when she told him that she had been living alone—but didn't she have any family while growing up? At all? That sounded—very lonely.

“You see, Sasuke… There was only one Namikaze in Konoha, and that was Minato-san,” he explained. “He was really famous, really powerful, and he had many, many enemies. If his daughter bore his name, but didn't have any family to protect her… it would have been bad.”

“Minato-san… who was he? A famous ninja?”

“Yes, Sasuke. One of the most acclaimed heroes of Konoha—” Itachi said, eyes serious. “Minato-san—Naruko's dad—he was the Fourth Hokage.”

Sasuke's eyes grew wide and he gaped, unconcerned with the weird face he was probably making. Itachi looked suddenly fiercely determined, and took the boy by the shoulders, crouching in front of him so that they were looking each other in the eye.

“Listen to me carefully, Otouto,” he ordered, “You can't tell anyone about this. Not even Naruko. She doesn't know yet, do you know why?” Sasuke shook his head. “Think. Why?”

“Because… because she'd tell everyone and she'd be in danger?” He offered tentatively, doubtfully. Itachi's eyes gleamed.

“Exactly. Naruto will tell her when he believes she's ready, but for now, she doesn't know.”

“Then… why are you telling _me_ this, nii-sama?”

“I'm confiding this to you because Naruko will need your support. Many kids in the Academy will look down on her for being an orphan and not having a clan. Many won't want to be her friends. She's been alone all her life, can you imagine how lonely that is?”

Sasuke could. He supposed it was a little similar to his own friendless situation, only worse. Because, where Sasuke had always had the support of his family—Naruko had no one.

“Well, those kids are stupid,” he determined, fierce. His brows scrunched up in frustration, wondering why people could judge Naruko before getting to know her. “She's annoying, but she's fun and she's strong, and she's not less for being an orphan. And even if she were clan-less, that wouldn't change,” he declared stubbornly. “I'll be her friend even if no one else wants to, and I won't let her be alone never again.”

He was decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaay~ Sasuke could have been such a good boy had the Massacre never occured... He'll be a great friend.
> 
> Anyway I wanted to ask, before I get more into this... would you like some other character of this world to be of the opposite sex? I mean, if the change was possible with Naruko, then there might be someone else—and if so, **who?** (And please, choose from those that haven't been mentioned yet. I've _plans_.) I can't promise to really change it though, but... the possibility is there. Maybe.
> 
> I hope you're still enjoying the ride! We're starting to enter the first conflict here, mwahahaha! (?) As always, opinions and constructive criticism are always welcome!
> 
> Cheers~


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here you have chapter 10. It's even longer than the last one, and I still can't believe that this story is growing at the pace it is. I wanted to thank all of you beautiful people for reading and leaving your kudos and opinions, I really appreciate them!
> 
> Also, I wanted to point out that as of yesterday (July 15, 2016) chapters 1-5 have been rewritten, so if you read them before you might want to reread them. They really haven't changed that much, I've just added some more background information as the plot now is more defined. Ah, and that I have decided not to change the genre of any other character, at least for this story. Just so you know.
> 
> Well, that's it. ENJOY! :)

**10**

 

“Inuzuka Kiba!” The boy with shaggy brown hair and red clan markings announced proudly, and Iruka smiled pleasantly. “I'll be getting mi ninken real soon, and together we'll become the best ninja pair in the whole village!”

“Thank you, Kiba,” the young teacher said, and the rest of the thirty six kids applauded him without much enthusiasm. It was expected, as they obviously had grown bored of the dull repetition after the fifth introduction, but Iruka was determined to have every single one of his kids present themselves.

Half an hour before, Iruka had been a mess of nerves and self-doubt. He had actually contemplated just gathering up his things and running away from the school, having convinced himself that he had made a terrible, terrible mistake.

Sure, he had passed all the classes required to become an Academy Instructor, but he was not fully convinced that those prepared future teachers enough to actually get in front of a class and control a bunch of seven year old hopeful ninjas.

Iruka hadn't forgotten how he was as a child, how he acted at school, how difficult it was for their teacher to actually get them to _stop running around and listen_. Man, what had he been thinking? Passing down the Will of Fire to the next generation was all good and noble in theory, but… was he capable of doing it? Was he?

The clock on the wall had announced that his time to repent and forget that ridiculous idea had ever occurred to him was over. He could almost hear its tearful goodbye. He had run out of options, he'd have to man up and face the music.

The kids started arriving, some looking curious, some apprehensive, and there was one that simply sat on a random seat, slumped over the desk, and dozed off. ( _A Nara,_ Iruka's mind supplied, _Shikamaru, then._ )

Iruka took notice of the other children easily recognizable as clan heirs, and he abruptly realized that his class had almost every single one of them. He also had second children from prominent clans, and for some unfathomable reason, he hadn't picked up on any of that as he was going through their files. Admittedly, Iruka had been more concerned with the fact that there was one particular child he really didn't want to teach at the moment, but he should have noticed the huge responsibility that was being put on his shoulders when he was assigned this particular class. He couldn't believe he didn't until they were literally staring at him in the face. It was making his already frazzled nerves even worse.

He had to take a deep, calming breath and steel himself. He had chosen his path and—even if he had his concerns—he was sure it was the right one for him. One step at a time. He could do it. He _could_. (He really had to believe it, or he'd collapse.)

So, he waited until every single one of the thirty seven students was accounted for, and then he started.

He closed the door and loudly cleared his throat to gain their attention.

He hadn't really been expecting that to work, though, so he wasn't disappointed when it didn't. Sighing, the nineteen years old Chuunin clapped his hands and, with only the barest hint of chakra enhancing his voice, he called for the room to quiet down. The effect was immediate, and he was glad. He didn't delude himself thinking that it would work every time, though. He was sure he'd have to come up with a more creative way or they'd walk all over him.

“Alright class!” He said, fervently hoping that his voice didn't waver and betray his anxiousness. “My name is Umino Iruka, but you may call me Iruka-sensei. I'll be your base Instructor this year, and probably until you've all graduated and become Genin of Konoha,” he introduced himself. The kids were hanging onto his every word, and he found that both intimidating and assuring, as strange at that sounded. “Before we start with assessments today, I'd want to get to know you, and for you to get to now your classmates. For that reason, we'll all be stating our names, dreams, and anything else that we might want to share with the class. I'll start, and then I'll assign a person to continue, and we'll go from there. All right?”

The kids mumbled in agreement—or, in what seemed like agreement. Looking at their faces, Iruka could clearly identify those that were eager to participate, those who didn't care one way or another, and those who seemed they'd prefer the ground to open up and swallow them before speaking aloud.

“As I said before, my name is Umino Iruka, and this is my first year as a sensei. My dream is to pass down to all of you one of Konoha's greatest treasures—The Will of Fire,” he stated. Some kids excitedly asked what that meant, and Iruka smiled. He was finally starting to relax. Maybe he was thinking too much, and it wouldn't be as horrible as he feared. “Easy there! We'll learn about the Will of Fire during lessons, but for now, why don't you continue with the introductions?” He suggested to one of the kids who asked, a tall girl in the front row.

“Me?” She stuttered, but she composed herself and stood up when Iruka nodded. She clenched and unclenched her fists, and then spoke. “I'm Ouka, Katsumi Ouka. My dad is a civilian, but mom's a Chuunin. I want to be like her, someday,” she confessed, then promptly sat back down.

“Thank you, Ouka,” Iruka said, smiling and clapping encouragingly. The kids promptly followed his lead, and the girl blushed. “Now, the boy sitting behind Ouka, could you continue?” And like that it went, clan kids and civilian kids stating their names and their dreams, sometimes a little bit about their families and abilities. (Or, in Shikamaru's case, only his name and a “this is so troublesome.”)

Then came Kiba, and the one sitting right behind him was the very same child Iruka had been worrying about—which distracted him enough not to notice how many clan heirs were placed in his class to begin with. The girl was visibly shaking with excitement as Iruka's eyes glided over to her person. The man struggled to not let his smile fall, and then with a nod of his head prompted the blond haired Jinchuuriki to speak.

“I'm Uzumaki Naruko!” She declared in a voice louder than Kiba's, which was an accomplishment on its own. But not only was she loud, she literally jumped over the desk and theatrically pointed to herself with her thumb in a pose that Iruka was sure he had seen before, but couldn't recall where. “And I'm going to be Hokage, dattebane!” She boasted, chest puffing up and grinning widely.

Iruka was speechless. Of all the things he had been expecting from the girl who was the container of the monster responsible for his parent's deaths, this was not one of them. Before he could react in any way, someone sniggered. Then, another kid snorted.

The Kyuubi vessel frowned, and suddenly it was like a dam had been broken. The kids started laughing uproariously, and some of them even pointed at her and said things that were clearly out of order. It didn't matter that Iruka was not comfortable with the child, there was no reason why the kids should be saying such cruel things.

“You? Hokage?”

“But you're a nobody!”

“Don't talk big, my father told me of you, he said you were scum…”

“… crazy, shouldn't play with you.”

“Don't say stupid things, you're just a girl.”

“… Clanless orphan…”

“… Useless…”

“Hokage! As if…!”

“SHUT UP!”

The shout had been so unexpected, even Iruka—who was about to interrupt them himself and reprimand them for being so disrespectful—jumped and swivelled around to look for the one the voice belonged to. The owner was, surprisingly, none other than Uchiha Sasuke. He was standing beside the blond girl, fist clenched and glaring daggers at everyone. Iruka was fascinated, as the kid was obviously enraged, but instead of boiling up and screaming his head off, his glare was glacial.

“Shut. Up,” he repeated more calmly, but his anger was almost palpable. Iruka couldn't understand the reason why, though, because as far as he knew, the Uchiha Clan had nothing to do with the Jinchuuriki, and the boy didn't have any reason to even know her, much less defend her. “You are all a bunch of prejudiced idiots who don't know a single thing. You can't judge without knowing. You don't know nothing about Naruko, about her will and determination. I believe in her. If she says she'll be Hokage, then she will,” he declared with conviction. “I won't let any of you say anything bad about her, or her dream. If you have a problem, well, too bad. Naruko is my best friend, and nobody disrespects her. Nobody.”

The classroom was silent for several minutes after that announcement, while Sasuke glared coldly at everyone who looked like they wanted to protest. The blonde-haired girl smiled a watery smile towards the Uchiha, and then she beamed. After discreetly wiping away a tear that had threatened to fall down her whiskered cheek, she punched the boy's shoulder in a friendly way.

“Stop that, teme! I don't need ya defending me, ya know!” She said, pretending to be annoyed but failing miserably. The gratitude was plain obvious. “I can take care of myself!”

Sasuke huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Hn. I know. But these morons had that coming. I can't let them say whatever they want.”

“Thanks, though.”

“Whatever.”

Iruka watched them banter as if they had known each other all their life, and for all he know, they might have. Then, to his utter surprise, another voice joined the defend-the-Uzumaki discourse.

“Sasuke-san is right,” drawled none other than Nara Shikamaru in a very lazy but not less sharp tone. “You don't know anything about Naruko-san, so you shouldn't just dismiss her. She's bright, and crafty, and she'll make a very troublesome woman and kunoichi when she grows up,” he said. “She might as well become Hokage.”

Right. One clan kid knowing and defending the Jinchuuriki was one thing. Two? Iruka sincerely had no idea. But then, a third voice popped up and the teenager became seriously confused.

“T-they are right,” Hyuuga Hinata stuttered, and she blushed darkly when she became the new focus of every pair of eyes. Iruka was baffled, because Hinata had barely been able to state her name in a small voice, and mention that she wanted to become a good clan head when she grew up, before needing to hide her face behind her fringe. And now was actually speaking up on her own volition? “Naruko-san is strong. She—” The girl gulped, but bravely continued, “—She will become Hokage. I'm sure.”

Even the defended party herself looked shocked at this last show of support, which went to show how unexpected it was. Nonetheless, the blonde girl looked touched and grateful, and smiled both at Shikamaru and the Hyuuga heir.

“Thank you, guys,” she said sincerely, and Iruka realized that everything had gotten out of hand. He needed to finish with the introductions before recess started, because after that he needed to do an assessment of the student's abilities—so that he got an idea of where they stood and what they should be focusing on during training.

“Yes, thank you,” he said, catching the attention of all his students once again. He gave them all a serious and slightly disappointed look. “We are all allowed to have our dreams and fight for them, and nobody has the right to laugh at us for that. I don't want something like this happening ever again. Is that understood?” He ordered pointedly. In response, there was a sullen chorus of “Yes, sensei”. He wasn't completely satisfied, as he noticed that more than one student didn't really seem to have taken it to heart. He sighed. There went his hopes that this wouldn't be as hard as he thought. Joy. “Good. Then, let's continue where we left…”

The remaining kids presented themselves awkwardly after the scene and their sensei's reprimand, but they finally finished with Aburame Shino's introduction. It was just on time, too, and Iruka told them to go out and play for a bit before they had to resume lessons. The children scattered astoundingly quickly, eager to be up and running after an hour of being sitting quietly in a stuffy classroom.

Iruka smiled as he watched them, reminded of himself at that age. He closed the classroom door and followed them outside, keeping track of every one of them in case there was a fight or an accident. They were his responsibility, after all.

 

* * *

 

“We'll be now doing some exercises to test your abilities,” he announced twenty minutes later. The kids looked around, some at ease, some suddenly apprehensive. Iruka quickly reassured them, “There's nothing to worry about. I'm not grading you, just trying to determine which training plan is better suited for each of you, and in which areas do you need more practice.” Most visibly relaxed at this, so Iruka continued. “First, we'll start with a mix of endurance and speed. You must run as many laps as you can around the training ground in five minutes,” he explained. “But remember, I'm testing both, so don't run at your highest speed if you can't keep it up. The goal here is to do as many laps as you can during those five minutes, and not crash before they end because you've burnt yourself out, am I clear?”

“Yes, sensei!”

“Good. On your marks. Ready. Start!” He pressed the chronometer button and the kids were off.

Iruka watched in resigned amusement as many of them did exactly the opposite of what he had just recommended, managing to do around three laps at top speed before collapsing. Not even three minutes had passed. He huffed and put a small mark beside those kid's names in the list he had prepared just for this occasion.

Among the ones who did complete the five minutes, there was a wide variety of results. Not surprisingly, Kiba had managed the highest number of laps—ten; followed closely by Sasuke, Naruko and a boy named Tooru, with nine laps each. The average was six laps, which was pretty good all things considered, but there were some kids who only managed three in the five minutes—like the pink haired girl, Sakura, whose parents were both civilian. It was not preoccupying, though. The fact that kids who hadn't had any training beforehand finished the exercise at all meant that they had a bright future—if they applied themselves.

Next was the accuracy test, in which each child had ten practice kunai and had to throw them at ten different marks that were positioned in ranges from five to twenty metres away from them.

He really shouldn't have been surprised when Hinata struck every mark's centre with deadly accuracy. The girl was obviously shy and looked rather weak, but she was a Hyuuga. She'd probably been training since she learned to walk, without mentioning that one of the things their dojutsu required its users to master was precision and accuracy. She had gotten average marks on the endurance/speed test, but she clearly was well above many other kids. The runner ups for this test were once again Sasuke, with nine out of ten, and Shino, with the same number as Sasuke. The average was around five, with many of the completely civilian born kids managing around two.

The final test for the day was taijutsu katas. He first demonstrated the five basic academy forms and asked the kids to imitate him. After repeating the process three times, he asked them to continue without his assistance as he observed them. He was not expecting much from the kids raised outside the clans—after all, it was the very first time most of them were doing this. Therefore, he was really surprised when he approached the pink haired Sakura and noticed that she had the five forms down to perfection. She was a little stiff, and she was breathing heavily—no doubt exhausted after all the unaccustomed physical effort—but she looked deeply concentrated; the transition between a figure and the next smooth and clearly practised. Iruka was impressed.

As he expected, this exercise had noticeably different results between clan kids—or those who had at least one shinobi parent—and civilian kids. Most in the first group had the five figures down, or at least four. Only Naruko, a boy named Ton and of course Sakura had managed as good as them, without being from a clan or having ninja relatives. The civilian kids could perform acceptably the first two or three, which were the easiest, but butchered the rest horribly. (Iruka made them stop as soon as he could, so as to prevent them from injuring themselves.)

He was ready to proclaim the exercise a success and be done with it, happily congratulating them all for a job well done, when the peaceful atmosphere completely evaporated.

It probably had to do with Naruko saying that she'd beat Sasuke the next time, Iruka guessed. The girl who approached the Jinchuuriki was one of the kids who had laughed at her before and hadn't looked convinced when Iruka reprimanded them for it. Her name was Kotonami Aiko, and her parents were both Jounin, though they didn't belong to any clan.

“I don't care what everyone says,” she started disdainfully, “but you clearly are beneath my level, and you can't possibly dream to be on par with Sasuke-kun. You're just a sorry excuse of a kunoichi, so stop trying to make us believe any different,” she ordered.

Naruko looked rightfully insulted, and Iruka was sure that she'd retaliate violently. He didn't want a fight to break before his first official day of classes ended, but it looked like it was a pipe dream. Sasuke intervened and for a brief, blissful second, Iruka dared to believe the boy would calm both girls down. No such luck.

“If you really believe that,” he said amicably, but with an edge of danger, “then you won't be opposed to fight her in a proper duel, right?” He challenged. Aiko looked surprised and slightly hesitant, but as Naruko didn't seem to be opposed to the idea (she actually brightened at the suggestion), she narrowed her eyes and determinedly accepted.

“Of course. There is no way I'd lose to this deadlast,” she sniffed haughtily. Iruka realized that the girl hadn't really be paying attention to the test results, and had the sudden itch to inform her that Naruko had actually done slightly better than her in every single aspect, but he was interrupted before he could even start.

“Iruka-sensei,” Sasuke called, turning to him with serious dark eyes. “Would you be their proctor?” He asked and okay, this was better than a fight without boundaries. He didn't think either girl would care if he said no. They'd fight either way. At least if he agreed to this he could put down some rules and make sure the fight ended without any of them getting really hurt.

“Fine,” he accepted, long-suffering. “Let's go to the ring.”

There they went. It was the one they used for sparring matches and examinations. Then he laid down the rules.

“Taijutsu only. No weapons. The fight ends when one of you is struck down for the third time, or when I say it's over. No jutsu either, if you know any,” he added only to be cautious. Even among clan kids, it was not common practice to teach them jutsu before they started the Academy, but there were always exceptions. He just didn't want to take the risk.

“Salute,” he ordered. The girls reluctantly nodded, and he struggled not to roll his eyes. Ah. He forgot. They probably didn't know the rules of conduct for formal sparring. “You must put your right index and middle fingers together and upwards in front of your chest, and then bow. It's protocol,” he explained, showing them how to do so. They imitated him clumsily, stiffly bowing to each other. Iruka barely refrained from snorting. Kids. “All rigth. Prepare. Ready. Start!”

It was a blur. One moment, both girls were facing each other, assessing each other in their starting positions, and the next Naruko had run three steps forward, spun on her right foot as she crouched down, striking at her opponent's feet with her left leg. Aiko didn't have time to understand what was happening before she was flat on her back, knocked out in less than two seconds.

Naruko sprung back to her feet, adopting once more her starting position while grinning gleefully and goading the other girl to stand and come at her.

Iruka blinked, surprised. That… was not what he was expecting. The movement Naruko pulled was not the most complicated one, in fact, it was pretty basic for Genin level shinobi, but the fact was—she wasn't Genin yet. And she had performed it flawlessly.

Sasuke looked smug, and Iruka understood then that the boy had truly meant what he said during his original pro-Naruko speech. He completely believed in her.

As Naruko easily duck beneath an acceptable right hook, positioning herself behind her opponent and using Aiko's momentum to destabilize her with a swift kick to her back, Iruka was inclined to accept that the boy's faith was well placed.

Where had this girl learned to move like that?!

“You know, sensei,” a calm voice spoke at his right, and Iruka looked down at Shikamaru askance. The boy didn't look up, instead, he followed the fight carefully with half-lidded eyes even as he talked. “Those two. They have been training all week with Maito Gai. I think it was because Naruko's uncle and Sasuke's brother had been making them run at six in the morning, and then they met Gai-san in one of his 'youthful morning routines',” he commented, shuddering briefly. And, yeah, Iruka could clearly understand where he was coming from. Gai-san had his _reputation_.

“And how do you know this?” Iruka asked, truly curious, as he turned his eyes back to the ring just in time to see Naruko dancing away from Aiko's punches and kicks with ease, laughing.

“I was roped into it the day after dad invited Naruko and his crazy uncle for dinner,” Shikamaru said matter-of-factly. “There was no way I could keep up with it, though. They are monsters, all five of them. Troublesome monsters.”

As Naruko clumsily but effectively drop-kicked Aiko, knocking her down for the third time without having received even one punch herself, Iruka had to agree.

“Okay! This fight is over. Winner: Uzumaki Naruko!” He proclaimed, and the kids clapped or booed according to their own preferences. Aiko grumbled angrily and stomped out of the ring with her body and her pride bruised. Naruko smiled triumphantly and high-fived Sasuke as she exited the arena.

Only when he was herding them back into the building for their last class of the day, did Iruka's brain processed everything Shikamaru had told him.

He stumbled.

Uzumaki Naruko, Kyuubi Jinchuuriki and certified orphan—had an uncle.

What the fuck?

That information was not on her file! Nobody had told him anything about that! Since when? Who was this man? He didn't remember any shinobi with that surname—he'd have noticed, surely. There should have been at least rumors. And he couldn't be a civilian, Shikamaru had clearly stated that he was training the kids together with Uchiha Itachi and Maito Gai, and that he was at least on par with them. What. In. The. World?

He was so distracted that he actually messed up the result of one of the easiest mathematical problems he had ever done in his life while explaining it to the kids, and had to laugh it off as him trying to see if they were paying enough attention to spot the mistake. (If Mizuki ever caught a word of the faux pas, Iruka would never live it down.)

He had to meet that man. Uzumaki Naruko's mysterious uncle. Iruka didn't believe that the man was a scam or a threat, seeing as Shikamaru said that his father—the Jounin commander—had invited him and his ward to dinner, but he needed to confirm it himself.

For that reason, he kept a close eye on the blond girl and her Uchiha companion as the class exited the building at the end of the school day. There were many parents and siblings waiting outside, and as soon as they were spotted, the kids were running around looking for their own relatives.

Iruka discreetly followed Naruko and Sasuke and watched as the girl gleefully jumped into the arms of a blond young man that couldn't be much older than Iruka himself. He laughed uproariously and twirled her around twice, before putting her down and trying to ruffle her hair, which she easily dodged. The man grinned, unconcerned, and instead redirected his attack to Sasuke's hair, whose owner was taken off guard and grunted indignantly.

The small group laughed as the boy batted the blond man's hand away and, after taking a fortifying breath, Iruka decided that he might as well approach them.

“Excuse me, Uzumaki-san?” He interrupted politely, “Could we talk for a moment?” He requested, and then blue eyes that were exactly the same as Naruko's looked at him with burning intensity. Iruka gulped. He would've been blind, if he didn't notice the resemblance between the two.

The man smiled pleasantly, and the gesture redirected Iruka's attention to the rest of his face and—oh. Those whiskers may not be a mark of the Kyuubi then, if this man also had them on his cheeks.

“Of course, sensei,” he accepted amicably. “Just…” He turned his attention to the kids. “Firecraker, Duckling, go play around for a bit, all right? We'll go for ramen after I speak with your sensei.”

“YAY! RAMEN!” Naruko cried out, running away from them and towards the swings in the small playground. Sasuke followed after her, grumbling under his breath about _not being a duckling,_ _stupid_. The man chuckled fondly and then turned back towards Iruka, a peculiar wishful expression on his face.

“Nice to meet ya…?” He prompted.

“Ah. Sorry!” Iruka apologized hastily, “I'm Umino Iruka… Naruko's sensei,” he said lamely. “But. Ah. You knew that already…”

“It's fine, sensei,” he said with good humour, “My name is Naruto,” he introduced himself with a grin. Iruka looked at him disbelievingly. The man laughed, amused. “Yes, I know. It seems my brother was feeling rather nostalgic when he named the kid. Er.” He scratched his cheek uncomfortably. “Umino-san…”

“Iruka's fine.”

“Right. Well, Iruka-sensei… you need to know that Uzumaki was the name of my sister-in-law—Naruko's mom. My brother and I… we were both Namikaze.”

At the revelation, Iruka's brain simply ceased to work. Completely. Just for a brief second, and then it started working furiously once again.

Nami—What? Namikaze? As in… Iruka was a Chuunin, and an Academy Instructor. He knew history. There was no way that he didn't recognize the name! There was only one Namikaze in the history of Konoha, and that was—

Iruka's eyes grew wide.

If this man was Namikaze Minato's brother, and his sister-in-law was Naruko's mother, that meant that _Naruko was the daughter of the Fourth Hokage._

Holy shit.

He hadn't even known the Fourth had been married. Or that he had a brother. How was he even supposed to _imagine_ that the had a daughter? A daughter that was the Kyuubi Jinchuuriki and _what the hell he had sealed the monster in his own daughter_ _?_ But then again—if he looked at the girl without his prejudice clouding his judgement, and compared her looks with the pictures he had seen of Minato-san—

Kami.

He'd been an idiot. A complete, blinder than a damn bat, stupid idiot.

(Not that the rest of the village was any better. Something like this… How come nobody had noticed?)

Naruto smiled softly, eyes shining, as if he understood what Iruka was going through.

“I really don't have time to explain things properly to you, as I promised I'd deliver Sasuke home before it gets dark, but I'd like to,” he said honestly, and Iruka nodded dumbly because what else was he supposed to do? “You can go speak with Ji—Sandaime-sama,” he suggested, just as his little niece threw herself at him from behind, clinging like a monkey to his back and demandingly requesting ramen. “He knows everything there's to know about this, and I don't think he will say no if you ask him to explain it to you.”

“NII-SAN! I'M STAAAAAARVING!”

“Yeah. I'll—I'll do that,” Iruka said dazedly. “Thanks.”

“See you later, Iruka-sensei. I'm feeding the little monsters before they decide to eat _me_ instead.”

“Eugh. No. Ya'd be too chewy. I want ramen!” Naruko chanted. “Sasuke does too, right, Sasuke?”

“Yes. Sure,” the boy answered, looking rather doubtful, but agreeing nonetheless.

“See? He wants it too! Let's go?”

“All right, all right. Say bye to your sensei and we'll go.”

His ears were assaulted by a “Bye, sensei,” and a “Goodbye, Iruka-sensei,” said simultaneously, and Iruka smiled distractedly at them both, his head still trying to wrap around all the new information.

“Yeah. See you tomorrow, Sasuke. Naruko. Naruto-san.”

“Sensei,” Naruto nodded, taking Sasuke's hand and making sure that Naruko was properly attached to his back before he started walking down town, presumably to get the promised ramen.

And as Iruka watched the three of them leave, chatting and laughing together animatedly, the teenager finally realized that Naruko was just a little girl. An ordinary, happy little girl who had been burdened with a heavy task, and who was doing her best to just live. She may be the container of a monster, but she wasn't a monster herself. He had been stupid, not noticing it sooner. Hatake-san and the Third definitely had, which was proven by their talks with him about trying his hand at teaching her without judgement. He was…ashamed of himself, actually. For not noticing it sooner. For needing even more proof.

It was then that he decided that he really wanted to know more about her, about this mysterious little ball of sunshine who was a student of his. Maybe that way he'd be able to make amends, at least with himself. And to do this, Iruka was sure that his best course of action was, in fact, doing as Naruto suggested and ask for an audience with the Hokage. Who better to explain things than the man who probably had most of the information? After all, Iruka had an incomplete, horribly inaccurate file that needed updating.

 

* * *

 

When he arrived at the Hokage Tower, he was told by the secretary that he'd have to wait, because the Third was on a meeting at the moment. Iruka didn't mind, really. He didn't have to do anything important before returning home, so he had time.

He sat on one of the seats beside the secretary's desk, toying with the folder which contained the students' files. Iruka had brought it with him because he honestly thought they needed to go over them with the man. Who knew if more of the files had wrong or incomplete information?

Not ten minutes later, the office door opened and a man came out—most probably the one the Third had been meeting with. Iruka didn't immediately recognize him, but he finally did when the man walked over to the secretary and therefore closer to Iruka. It was Uchiha Shisui.

The teenager said a couple of words to the Chuunin and then turned around, spotting Iruka. He nodded his head in greeting; Iruka nodded back. Iruka didn't know the Uchiha personally, but he knew _of_ him. Honestly, who didn't know about Shisui of the Body Flicker? The teacher really admired the younger teen, and it was not only because of his prowess and abilities, but also because he never flaunted them like other powerful shinobi tended to do. He didn't act stuck up like many other Uchihas, either. He was a frighteningly talented young man who had joined the Jounin ranks faster than many, but who still had a sense of humour and a sensible personality. Furthermore, they were close in age, so they usually greeted each other when they crossed paths.

Iruka was concerned, though, because the pleasant smile Shisui usually wore was completely absent from his face and his demeanour. Iruka thought the boy looked really troubled, but before he could ask or do anything about it, the Sandaime called for him to enter.

Iruka hesitated momentarily, but then Shisui was gone. He sighed and pushed it to the back of his mind. Everybody had shitty days, who said it wasn't just that? He had other things to be worried about at the moment. Like getting information about his little students.

“Sandaime-sama,” he saluted as he closed the door behind him.

“Ah, Iruka-sensei. What can I do for you?”

“Well, you see, there are some things that have come to my attention in regards one of my kids and I was wondering if…”

Distracted, Iruka completely forgot about Shisui.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wah, I made it! This chapter was a nightmare to write... but it was exciting nonetheless!
> 
> A huge _thank you_ to all of you for reading and commenting and showing your interest in this story. It keeps me writing. A thank you to my brother, too, who's been proofreading my work for the last couple of chapters and I forgot to mention him here (sorry, man!).
> 
> Enjoy!

**11**

 

It took much more that it should have, not to crush in his hands the piece of paper until it became nothing more than a squished, misshapen ball. He'd have liked to compress it until he couldn't anymore, until it was so small that it would actually hurt if thrown at somebody's head—even just a little. He would then have liked to throw it into the air, and immediately incinerate it by means of a swift fire jutsu. Then he'd happily forget he ever got wind of the information it contained.

But that was unfortunately impossible, and even less intelligent.

And Shimura Danzo prided himself in being rather intelligent, so he couldn't afford to make that particular wish come true.

He took a deep breath through his nose, eyes clenched shut and counting from thirty to one in his head. It usually helped calm his frayed nerves, whenever something occurred that actually made him feel—not helpless (because Danzo was everything but helpless), but… wrong-footed, perhaps.

Thinking back on the file his ROOT shinobi had brought him and that he had barely avoided burning to ashes, the man felt his temper rise. It was a good thing that he had left the folder on the desk when he was attempting to calm himself.

What was that damned Sarutobi thinking about? What was he playing at? There was no way that—

With face stern and clenched teeth, Danzo got up from his chair and proceeded to pick up the file that he had previously thrown to his desk in anger. He opened it and skimmed its contents one more time, making sure that what he had read before was not something his imagination had conjured up (not that he actually believed the possibility was there, but because it would have been easier for him if that had been the case). It was the same. Nothing had changed since he read it for the fourth time three minutes ago.

He placed the folder inside his sling and took his cane.

(While he didn't actually needed it to walk, it made him look old and frail.

He mentally snorted.

That couldn't be furthest from the truth, but—it helped. It made other people underestimate him. Which was foolish of them, but really useful for Danzo himself.)

There was only one thing that he could do with what he got. He needed to have a serious talk with the slippery Hokage.

 

* * *

 

“What is the meaning of this, Hiruzen?” Danzo asked politely but with a steel undertone as he entered the Third Hokage's office and slammed the folder upon the man's desk. Sarutobi looked up from his paperwork and considered first the file, and then the war hawk with mild curiosity.

“I'm afraid that I'm not sure what are you talking about, my old friend,” he replied, and then carefully began piling up his work. After putting it to one side, he grabbed the folder Danzo had thrown and brought it closer to his person, but didn't open it. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on the Councilman.

Danzo's eyes narrowed as he followed the man's movements with suspicion. If he also considered the fact that Sarutobi didn't really look surprised at his unannounced visit, Danzo could safely deduce that the Hokage was playing innocent.

“No, Hiruzen. You know well enough why I am here,” Danzo retorted, and would've crossed his arms in front of his chest if it weren't for his immobilized right one. Its modifications were useful, but he needed to keep them secret. It wouldn't be wise, showing that the arm was actually still functional—it would lead to questions. Those questions might lead to the discovery of Shin Uchiha's stolen arm and Sharingan which was—not good. And after the complicated manoeuvring he had been obliged to perform when Orochimaru's little pet-projects had been discovered and Danzo had needed to cut all ties with him, he was not keen on being linked to the Sannin because something as stupid as revealing his arm.

Hiruzen sat back on his chair and after a moment of silent regard, he nodded.

“I suppose I do,” he acknowledged. He took his pipe with his right hand and prepared the tobacco for it. Danzo stared, unimpressed. “You have been informed of Uzumaki Naruko's new guardian,” he said, and it wasn't a question.

“Indeed,” he drawled. “Would you care to inform me what nonsense is that all about?” He pressed, beyond irritated but not willing to show it. His face was stern.

“There's nothing nonsensical about this, old friend. Thirteen days ago, an unaffiliated shinobi moved to Konoha with all papers in order. Two days later, he was discovered to be Namikaze Minato's younger brother—”

“That is absurd. Namikaze had no family. He was raised in an orphanage,” Danzo interrupted, cutting off the ridiculousness since the very beginning.

“Yes, it's true,” the Kage conceded, a ring of smoke escaping his lips.

“Then—”

“But,” Hiruzen interrupted sharply. “We've thoroughly interrogated him and even asked the hospital to perform a blood test. There is little doubt that the man is who he says he is. The blood tests indicates that he's close family, and his story is real.”

“And what, pray tell, is this story?” Danzo spit out, furious but unable to negate the claims if there was blood involved. Of course, he'd need the proof, and he would have to take his own sample and have his own team work over it, because he couldn't be sure that Hiruzen was being honest until then. He was no idiot, he knew the man had a soft spot for the Jinchuuriki and didn't approve of the Council's decisions regarding it. He wouldn't put it past him to stage all this just to piss Danzo off.

“For what we've managed to puzzle, Namikaze Naruto is seven years younger than Minato, and they were separated just after he was born,” Sarutobi started to explain.

“Separated?”

“You are aware, of course, that Minato graduated after two years in the Academy when he was ten,” Sarutobi said and Danzo nodded briefly in agreement. “Well, I dug through those records after Naruto appeared and I found that Minato was actually taken into the orphanage just a couple of months before he started the Academy. There are no records of him before that, only what the boy himself was able to tell the matron: his name, and that his family had been killed in transit.”

“So, are you saying that this hypothetical younger brother—who wasn't yet a year old if this story is to be believed—somehow survived when the rest of his family didn't, and Minato wasn't aware of it?” Danzo asked sceptically.

He couldn't call it bullshit, though, because even when he had ordered an investigation on Minato when Sarutobi decided to appoint him his successor, he hadn't really cared much about the man to pay attention to anything he did before his graduation. He had known about the orphanage—it was common knowledge—and he had also known that the man had not been born in Konoha, which was one more reason Danzo hadn't trusted him, but he didn't remember when exactly had the boy moved into the village.

“From what Naruto said—” Danzo snorted and Hiruzen pinned him with a disapproving glare. Danzo clenched his teeth but nodded, asking for the other man to continue. “—From what Naruto said, the people who found him were passing merchants of Wave. It was pure luck, as he had been hidden beneath a pile of clothes. Apparently, the woman who later would become his adoptive mother heard him crying and insisted on looking for him. His given name was embroidered on his clothes, but not his last name. They didn't gave him theirs, and he grew up as Naruto of the Land of Wave.”

“Supposing you're right and the brat is telling the truth—how did he—or you, for that matter, came to the conclusion that he was Namikaze's brother? And why give him that name? You are well aware that it's dangerous.”

Sarutobi chuckled with little mirth.

“Oh, my friend. There is no way that we who knew Minato could not realize both men resemblance. Indeed, when I first laid eyes on him, I truly believed that Minato had risen from his grave, they are that similar. I had to take him to T&I immediately, and he didn't refuse. Those were… a couple of complicated days,” he mused. “And you are right. The Namikaze name comes with many problems, but it is rightfully his—Naruko's, too, but her circumstances were difficult, back then, as you know. The young man is strong, nonetheless, and I do not fear for his or Naruko's safety were his new name to become known. Of course, he's not going to actively advertise it, but you know how these things go…”

Danzo fumbled for arguments while Sarutobi smoked, not bothered. He soon found some that were good, in his opinion.

“Be that as it may, I still cannot comprehend why have you given him guardianship over the Jinchuuriki. He might be related to her by blood, but he hadn't known about her and he's… what? Barely twenty… twenty two? I doubt it very much that a man that young and without any real ties to the kid would like the idea of being saddled with such a burden.”

“On the contrary, when he learned he had family left, he jumped over the possibility of getting to know her. Apparently, his adoptive parents passed away some years ago and he has nobody else. He was ecstatic about the idea of getting more family.”

“That still is not enough argument to leave the Jinchuuriki to him. He could very well be a spy sent to infiltrate the village and make her weak. It's irresponsible to give him access to Konoha's hidden weapon.”

“Naruko might be the current Jinchuuriki but she's just a little girl, Danzo,” Sarutobi said sternly. “And Naruto has been seen to by Yamanaka Inoichi, and interrogated by the head of T&I himself. He's no spy.”

“The law prohibits the adoption of the Jinchuuriki!”

“They just prohibit the major Clans from adopting her, Danzo. Civilians and shinobi without clan were never contemplated into that law. And besides, Naruto is not adopting his niece—they are family already. They do not need permission to live together.”

Danzo was irate. How could this happen? He had plans! He had carefully laid plans that were going to crumble to pieces if he couldn't do something about this unexpected development right now!

“And what about the Uchiha?” He growled, grasping at straws. Hiruzen lifted an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with the change of subject.

“I'm afraid I don't follow you.”

“The Jichuuriki. My sources indicate that she's been seen passing inordinate amounts of time together with one of the Uchiha heirs. Too much to be healthy, especially considering the fragile political climate we're going through,” he declared, and finally felt that he was making a truly valid point. Sarutobi was not oblivious to the planned coup d'etat of the Uchiha. Surely, he'd be able to see that there was something suspicious going on. “It is concerning, that she's being allowed to get so close to them. It is, perhaps, a ploy to use her against Konoha once they decide to make a move.”

To add to Danzo's growing fury, Sarutobi just chuckled at his well-founded concern.

“I doubt it very much that young Sasuke has anything to do with the coup, and in any case I wasn't aware that making friends with other kids was considered an offence of any kind,” the man said, dismissing his words without finesse. “It's not as if he's the only kid she has befriended, Nara Shikamaru and even the Hyuuga heir have seemed inclined to enter that category.”

“You are blind, Sarutobi. The Uchiha are about to strike at any moment, and they may be even trying to lure Konoha's weapon to their side, and you would sit there and let them? Because they are _'just kids_ _'_ _?_ ” He growled incredulously, trying to make the man reconsider.

“Mhh—That may be so, but I don't really think it is,” Sarutobi murmured, still looking awfully unconcerned. “If this was all, my old friend… I really need to finish these reports. Paperwork accumulates rather quickly, and I intend to go home for the night.”

“You're committing a grave mistake,” the war hawk pronounced darkly, but refrained from saying anything more. It was obvious that the Hokage had already made his mind up, and that Danzo wouldn't be able to change his opinion on the matter—not with the arguments he had then. He picked up the file that Sarutobi hadn't even bothered to examine and bowed rather stiffly. “We'll talk about this later.”

“Goodbye, Danzo.”

“Hiruzen.”

The man stormed out of the room, still furious. His carefully laid plans were going up in smoke, and all because a relative that shouldn't had even existed appeared from nowhere and—

Danzo stopped short, thinking it through. This might actually—

Oh.

This may actually not be that bad.

He had been planning on taking the Jinchuuriki under his care and training her properly to become an asset to the village, but Sarutobi had fought him. As an orphan, she was legally a guard of the village—which meant that the Hokage was in charge of her, and able to stop Danzo. But now, Sarutobi himself had entrusted the Jinchuuriki to a man who was not only young, but also a foreigner—

He could use this to his advantage. Danzo could convince the man that the best place for his niece was in ROOT, being trained for the dangers that were to come, to be able to protect the village to the best of her capacity. Sarutobi had mentioned that the man had been an unaffiliated shinobi, and that he trusted him enough to defend himself and the girl if they were attacked because of his name. That meant he was powerful, and probably even a genius—Danzo might not have liked Minato, but it was mostly because he considered his ideals foolish, not because he believed him weak. No, the man had been a prodigy, and Danzo would have been content to serve him if he had been more assertive, instead of following pipe dreams of peace.

If this Naruto was anything like his brother—wouldn't that be good for Danzo? He could test him, and if he had anything to offer… Danzo could convince him to join ROOT, too. If he was as interested as Sarutobi affirmed he was in taking care of his niece—

The smile that broke out on his face would have made many strong men and women flinch and hurriedly step away, had they seen it. But Danzo was alone, and he had just had a brilliant idea. He could indulge in a bit of dark smiling, if he wanted.

 

* * *

 

Back in his own office—the one that was not in one of ROOT's hidden buildings, but which nonetheless functioned as one of its bases—, Danzo waited expectantly for his ROOT shinobi, the ones that had infiltrated ANBU, to return escorting the young man that was said to be Namikaze Minato's brother.

He had considered ordering them to silently spirit him away on the dead of the night, but after the reports he got from the special team of shinobi assigned to shadow the man the day before, Danzo had to reconsider. Apparently, Namikaze Naruto was more paranoid that any man Danzo had ever met. (Or he was much more skilled than what he was letting them see, which was a source of conflict for the Councilman. On the one hand, if Naruto was really that skilled, turning him into one of his men could be very handy. On the other hand, that same ability could prevent the man from joining Danzo… which was not good.)

From what his shinobi could tell after their surveillance, Namikaze had known that they were being observed, and in more than one occasion they had been sure that the man knew exactly where the operatives were. He hadn't done anything suspicious, in fact, Danzo was quite sure when he finished listening to the report that the man had avoided doing anything out of the ordinary just because he knew that there was someone watching him.

He had taken the Jinchuuriki to the Academy in the morning, and then went shopping. Grocery shopping, wasting what Danzo considered too much time debating over which one of the different flavours of instant ramen was better and which ones should he buy. (After fifteen minutes, the man had shrugged and finally decided on two of each, which amounted to… thirty eight packets of noodles. Danzo could almost have sworn that there was incredulity in the voice of the ROOT member who was reporting then, if it wasn't for his complete faith in his training methods. ROOT shinobi didn't feel _anything_. Period.)

After paying for everything he leisurely walked back to his apartment and put away the groceries while he happily hummed a random tune. He had lunch—one of the aforementioned packets of noodles with some fresh vegetables added afterwards—and then went outside once again, seemingly without a destination.

He roamed the streets of Konoha with mild curiosity, showing signs of knowing some parts better than others, which was nothing out of the ordinary if Danzo took into account the fact that the man had more than a week to get accustomed to the village.

He stopped rather brusquely once, and Danzo's operatives had sprung into attention, ready for some kind of trouble, but Namikaze had only entered a botanist's and bought two small potted _plants_ (one of them a _cactus_ _)_ _,_ and garden tools. (Danzo had been rather baffled when the shinobi reporting to him declared that Namikaze had cooed to the leafy plant and adoringly called it 'Mr. Ukki', but it didn't show on his face.)

The man was spotted interchanging pleasantries here and there with different people—shinobi and civilian alike—but never really stopping to talk with them, so his men weren't able to determine who was Namikaze close with. After he made another stop by his house to leave the newly acquired house plants, he went back to the Academy and waited half an hour for his charge to come out. The Jinchuuriki was once again reported to be accompanied by Uchiha Sasuke, and Namikaze had greeted them both and guided them towards the training grounds.

There is where things got interesting—the group of three met with Uchiha Itachi, who had just came back from a mission that same morning. Both the Jinchuuriki and the younger Uchiha had greeted Itachi warmly and Namikaze himself had been smiling welcoming to the young teen, but then he said something to the Uchiha that made the boy tense. It had been minuscule, but Danzo's men were very observant shinobi, and caught it. Namikaze put a hand over his ward's head and bid goodbye to the Uchiha, to what both kids started to complain loudly against before the oldest two silenced them with a couple of words. Danzo was not happy that his men hadn't been able to hear whatever it had been said, but when they explained that whenever they tried to shorten the distance, Namikaze would turn sharply towards them as if he knew they were there, the war hawk let it go.

When uncle and niece arrived home, after dinner in a place called Ichiraku Ramen, the operatives could detect the buzz of privacy seals activating. This had made Danzo pause. He knew virtually nothing of Namikaze's abilities, but if he could make privacy seals there was a high probability he knew how to make other, much more unpleasant security seals. Until that point, he had started to believe that the man was rather average if a bit… particular, but after that and coupled with the apparent sensibility to chakra—

His abduction plans were not a very good idea, Danzo decided. It would be more practical and much less suspicious for Namikaze if ROOT approached him openly and brought him to Danzo during daytime. Surely when he was informed that a member of the Konoha Council wanted to talk to him in regards to his niece, he would accept and follow his disguised ROOT without protest.

Then Danzo would make use of his silver tongue and gain some control over the Jinchuuriki, and would finally be able to start making use of it instead of letting its potential stagnate just because the fool of Sarutobi considered one of the village's strongest assets a mere _child_.

As if.

So he waited for the next day, and ordered a group of his men to approach the man disguised as ANBU. He put emphasis in the fact that they should do so when there weren't other people around him. It was best that there were no witnesses, just in case. He was aware that it could take hours—but it would hopefully be before night fell.

There was a knock on his door and Danzo snapped out of his musings.

Finally.

“Please, enter,” he said politely and infusing as much warmth as he was able without sounding too fake. “I'm glad you made it, Mr… Uchiha? What are you doing here?” He snapped as he recognized the person who entered. It was not the blond young man he was expecting, but rather the dark-haired form of Uchiha Shisui.

“Good afternoon, Danzo-sama,” the teenager greeted, bowing his head briefly before looking at Danzo in the eye. “I was hoping you could hear me out, as I have something to tell you that is of the utmost importance,” he requested.

Danzo was severely tempted to bark a resounding 'no' and send the offending Uchiha on his way, but wisely refrained. The old man knew that Shisui was working as a spy for Hiruzen, so whatever he wanted to say might have something to do with the damn Uchiha and their coup. He breathed in deeply, and acquiesced to the boy's request.

(He would have to be quick, that's all. Let the boy speak, dismiss him as soon as he could, and wait for Namikaze to arrive. Piece of cake.)

“Very well. What is it so important that you had to come here right now, without making an appointment beforehand?” He asked, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his tone.

“It's about the coup, sir. May I speak freely?”

“Please, do.”

“Hokage-sama has informed me of Danzo-sama's belief that the only way to stop the coup d'etat is by killing off the entire clan,” the boy admitted and Danzo was surprised that Hiruzen had informed the boy of something that delicate. He was curious, though, because Shisui did not act as somebody wanting revenge or even as somebody who wanted to stop him by attacking physically, so he only lifted an eyebrow and waited for the boy to keep speaking. “I beg to differ,” he declared strongly, assertively, and looked back from the spot on the wall somewhere above Danzo's shoulder to the older man's eyes. “There is another way. One which will stop the coup before it even starts, without a single drop of blood shed.”

“Oh. Please, enlighten me. I'd very much want to hear it,” Danzo prompted, truly curious—but also assessing.

“These eyes of mine…” Shisui started and then gulped, hesitating briefly. He then blinked and turned on his Sharingan. Danzo promptly averted his own eyes to Shisui's forehead. It was stupid for any man to look directly to the eyes of an Uchiha when they had their bloodline activated. He was not. “These eyes of mine, they are not only the usual Sharingan,” he admitted, and Danzo was vaguely aware of the three tomoe swirling rapidly in the red iris around the pupil, before they shifted and transformed into twin black pinwheels. He was curious but alarmed, and did not make eye contact even as he dearly wanted to inspect this foreign occurrence. “Mangekyou Sharingan… I gained it some years ago, but haven't used it, as it is coveted and considered a legend, and it is said to cause blindness the more it is used. But I know what I can do with it,” the boy explained and Danzo listened, fascinated. “Kotoamatsukami is a genjutsu, an unbreakable genjutsu at that, which obliges the person who had it cast upon them to comply with the user's orders. It's infallible.

“I plan to use its power over the leaders of the coup. The blindness… it something I'm prepared to face if it means maintaining the peace in Konoha, and my clan safe,” the boy declared passionately.

Danzo had slowly gotten up from his chair and subtly signalled for his silent guards to be on position and ready to fight.

“That is… honestly, a very noble idea, Shisui-kun,” the man said, rounding his desk and carefully but swiftly looking around the room.

“Thank you, Danzo-sama,” Shisui breathed out, obviously relieved. “I will immediately go and—”

“But I'm afraid I can't let you go now,” Danzo interrupted, deceptively apologetic.

“—put it in… What?”

Before Shisui had time to react, the old man attacked. He was quick on his feet and in front of Shisui before the boy could process what was happening. Using his cane to keep himself upright, Danzo sharply kicked at Shisui's feet, making the teenager stumble backwards.

The boy was not a jounin for nothing, though, and immediately took a step back and crouched, regaining his equilibrium and adopting a fighting stance. Danzo was not idle, either, and soon started to interchange blows with the boy. Shisui was not fighting seriously, as he didn't seem to understand what was happening yet.

“Danzo-sama? What—Why?” He asked desperately as he parried a strong blow of the man's cane that was directed to his head. “What's the meaning of this?!”

“Well, Shisui-kun, while your idea has merit,” the older man started, dodging a dangerous blow to his ribs with a small turn, barely. He huffed, irritated as he usually became when fighting against a Sharingan user. They were difficult to punch and almost impossible to avoid. The only reason Danzo knew he hadn't lost yet was because the teen was overwhelmed and confused—and he was going to take advantage of it while he could, of course. Then he'd have his men back him up, if needed. “I don't believe that it will solve the problem. No. Even if they don't revel now, the idea will come back in time, to others. No. The only way to stop an internal war from breaking out is by killing off every single one of you, you treacherous Uchiha!” The man claimed, and he had to duck and roll to avoid a barrage of shuriken and being incinerated by a ball of fire.

“And furthermore—those eyes of yours. They are too powerful to let a boy like you keep them, and too useful to simply destroy. No, I think I'll keep them, as I will surely give them a better use—for the good of Konoha, after all.”

Shisui snarled and started to fight earnestly, unsheathing his blade and slashing at Danzo with deathly accuracy. The man suddenly found himself in a tight spot. He was not that young anymore and even if he was powerful, the state he was in didn't enable him to make use of all his limbs, which made it even more difficult for him to defend against Shisui's tanto.

“You! That is treason you're talking about! I won't let you get away with it, Danzo!” Shisui bellowed, parring away the cane Danzo had used to block the boy's last strike. The piece of wood clattered to the ground and the older man lost his balance and fell backwards. He looked up just in time to see the blade descending upon him before it went right throw his chest.

For a second, there was only silence and Shisui's heavy breaths.

By all means Danzo should have died from the blow. It had pierced his heart cleanly, blood sipping from the wound and dying his white shirt deep red. But he had an ace on his sleeve—literally.

“Izanagi!” He had roared just before the blade pierced him, activating the stolen Sharingan implanted in his stolen, genetically modified arm. He had died, but suddenly he faded away as he had been nothing more than a mere illusion. Shisui stepped back in shock and horrified realization as the man reappeared, clothes torn by his earlier cuts, but no trace of blood over what should have been a fatal wound.

Then, the bandages that usually covered Danzo's arm fell off, and pale, abnormal skin was bared to the world, red eye opened in what many might consider horrible disfigurement, but which Danzo believed was pure genius.

“You… what did you do?! How can you use Izanagi?! That's one of the Sharingan's forbidden techniques! You—You stole it! You stole one and you implanted into your—what—that's…” The boy looked sick and Danzo just smiled. A curve of his lips, barely there, but utterly dangerous.

“All the more reason to take those eyes and get rid of you,” the man whispered, before he snapped, “NOW!”

No less than six ninja surrounded the still unbalanced Uchiha and then the boy had to fight them off all at once. He was obviously getting tired, the chakra drain of his activated Mangekyou probably eating through his reserves faster than he was accustomed to. He got distracted when one of his opponents managed to nick his shoulder with their blade, and Danzo was able to get close and messily take Shisui's right eye.

The boy grunted in pain but didn't fall. Covered in blood and slashes and now without one of his eyes, he looked like a caged animal. Danzo knew not to underestimate shinobi when they reached that point—they became reckless and much more aggressive, fight or flight instinct kicking in and making them lose rationality. They became unpredictable, and therefore much more dangerous to deal with. Danzo was about to attack him again and try and take possession of the remaining eye when his doors opened with a bang, startling the room to look at the intruder.

Young, shorter than average but not by much and very blond, it took more than it should have for Danzo to recognize him as the man he had been looking forward to meeting before Shisui had appeared.

“Oh, dammit! I _knew_ I was forgetting something!” Namikaze groaned despairingly, but before Danzo could make sense of what he meant, Shisui knocked one of his distracted ROOT shinobi over and ran away through a window that had been broken some minutes into the fight by a stray kunai.

Danzo quickly gathered his wits and swivelled around to bark orders to his guards.

“FOLLOW HIM, DON'T LET HIM ESCAPE!”

The five masked shinobi immediately obeyed, darting off after the wounded youth, and only then did Danzo stop to compose himself, trying and failing to think about a story that he could feed the young blond man.

Unexpectedly, before he could come up with something credible that made him look like the good guy here, he was knocked out with a chop to the back of his neck.

Before he lost all consciousness, he registered a voice saying, “Shit. Shit. How could I forget something so important? Itachi is going to _kill_ me!”

And he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoosh. That was my first fight scene (because the brief encounter Naruko had in chapter 10 so not counts as a fight for me), I hope I didn't screw it up too much!
> 
> I had to do so much research for this! *whines* Most of my data is taken from naruto wikia, if you are interested.
> 
> Don't forget to let me know what you think! I really appreciate it!! :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh! Sorry for the wait! I struggled so much with this chapter xD I hope it's okay?
> 
> Err, anyway **_WARNING!!_** There are some vague descriptions of blood and violence here? I'm not sure if I should say anything as the tag was there already but... just in case. But don't worry! Everything is well!

**12**

 

A branch crunched and groaned, breaking under the sudden weight placed upon it, but the body had jumped away before it cluttered to the ground. A murder of crows cawed loudly and scattered some minutes after that, avoiding the hurried ninja that was running for his life.

Shisui knew it was just a matter of time.

He could almost feel the chakra of his tail, the shinobi Danzo had ordered to attack him. They were fast, and Shisui was tired, half-blind, and starting to feel the consequences of blood and chakra loss. He was running without a clear path in mind, barely aware of his surroundings beyond the tree branches and the approaching sunset.

He faltered for a second, and that little mistake cost him. He missed the next branch and fell, a pained gasp escaping from his lips even as he tried to reign it it, but quickly avoided getting plastered to the ground with a sloppy somersault, followed by a clumsy roll over fallen leaves that got stuck in his hair. He clutched his right arm with his left hand, trying to slow down at least that flow of blood, but not even then did he stop running.

He knew it was just a matter of time before they caught up, but—

But—

He wasn't called Shunshin no Shisui for nothing. They might be fast, but Shisui was _faster_.

With clenched teeth and steady resolution, the teenager let go of his injured arm to form the so familiar hand sign for the justu that gave him his moniker and _flickered_.

(What did it matter, if the liberal use of the technique consumed what little was left of his chakra reserves after fighting so long with the Mangekyou activated? What did it matter, if he was one foot closer to chakra exhaustion, when stopping meant his demise?)

It wouldn't have mattered that much, if the occasion was different. If this had been a mission, and the people chasing after him were enemy shinobi, Shisui would have resorted to other means to get out of the problem. He'd have probably been able to think much more clearly, make a plan, stick to it—

But this was an enemy that should be an ally. This was an enemy that only Shisui was aware of, and he couldn't just let himself be captured and killed—Not when that meant that nobody would ever know what happened to him; not when that meant the still avoidable annihilation of his Clan would come to pass.

His already limited vision was darkening at the edges, but Shisui fought against it. He couldn't pass out now, he needed to run run run _get away_ —

He had been lucky, when his fight with Danzo was interrupted so suddenly. He hadn't even tried to get a look of his accidental saviour, he had just made use of the opportunity that was so graciously presented to him and took off as fast as he could. He managed to knock out one of Danzo's minions before he escaped through a broken window—courtesy of which he had yet another slash from which more blood was oozing from, as if he hadn't enough with the ones his attackers inflicted upon him. (Not to mention his missing eye. Kami, that _hurt_.)

He wasn't sure what was the cause of his stumble, but suddenly he found himself on his hands and knees, blood dripping down and splattering the ground with red that quickly turned to dark brown as it was absorbed by the earth. It hurt to breathe, and dark spots were still dancing in front of him, obstructing his visibility.

He felt dizzy and nauseous and so, so tired but he couldn't focus on that. He didn't even acknowledge his state as he pushed himself up again and activated shunshin once more.

The only thing clear in his mind right then was that he _had to get away_ _right now, he had to be faster_ —

 _He needed to_ —

He needed to get to somebody. He needed to tell somebody what happened, he needed—

He needed to know that his death wouldn't be in vain. That it would be avenged. That his family and his village and everything he held dear would be protected, would be okay.

The image of his little cousin and best friend popped up right then, and suddenly he knew what was the best course of action. If there was a soul that would understand where he was coming from and do the right thing, that'd be his. Shisui didn't doubt it for a second.

He needed to find Itachi.

 

* * *

 

Once he had an objective apart from not getting caught, Shisui redirected his path towards the training grounds Itachi normally frequented when he was not on a mission or on duty.

He could do nothing else but pray that he would be able to find him there, because he was feeling more and more detached and he was sure that any second now he was going to pass out and bleed to death (or his tail would finally catch up and kill him—not that it made much difference, he'll be dead anyway). If Itachi was not there when Shisui arrived, then—

No. He'd be there. He had to believe that, or he might just give up and he couldn't bear to even think about it. Giving up at this point would not only mean his death, but also the death of his clansmen and family and war, and Shisui could not tolerate the idea. He had to persevere. _He had to move_.

He grunted in pain as he collided rather roughly with the trunk of a tree, before he used it to push himself off and advance further. (He left a bloody hand print behind, but he couldn't really care. It was not as if he was trying to be discreet. He didn't have the time to do so.)

One more shunshin and then—

There.

The rhythmic _thump, thump_ of kunai being thrown at a target, and a soft voice patiently explaining what the thrower was doing wrong. Shisui almost felt like weeping, recognizing said voice immediately.

“No. Not like that,”Itachi said fondly, and in some corner of his mind the approaching teenager knew that the only one his cousin treated with such tenderness could be none other than Sasuke. “You must bend your wrist more. Let me demonstrate again, and pay more attention this ti—”

With a whoosh of leaves and a humongous effort to control what was left of his chakra, Shisui activated the jutsu one more time to get to Itachi's side, and then five more times after he grabbed a hold of the younger teen. He had been barely aware of the shouts of surprised alarm just after he kidnapped his little cousin, but he couldn't stop—not even to reassure Sasuke of his brother's safety.

The succession of shunshin that followed were almost as draining as using his Mangekyou, but they were necessary—He couldn't waste more time. He had to take them both as far away as he could before Itachi got his wits and attacked him in self defence—which he did, just as Shisui finished his fifth overpowered consecutive jutsu.

The elbow to the stomach and the following grip on his arm was something he was expecting, as he had surprised his cousin too many times to count and knew it was his default manoeuvre to dislodge attackers. He let himself be pulled over Itachi's head and pinned to the ground, knowing that struggling was not his best option.

Itachi's dark eyes, which had been narrowed and icy and dangerous as he pinned Shisui to the ground and held a sharp kunai against the older teen's throat, grew huge as he recognized the mangled form of his cousin and promptly rolled over and away from Shisui.

“Shisui?! What happened to you?!” He demanded, horrified. Shisui couldn't help the wet chuckle that escaped him at that, even if it hurt like blazes and made him cough up blood afterwards. Go figure, that he needed to be at death's door for Itachi to show so much emotion to him. The boy hurriedly turned him over and Shisui was grateful—at least he wouldn't drown on his own blood before he could actually say what he so desperately needed to. “What—Oh, Kami your eye—! Why aren't you at the Hospital—”

“Itachi,” he wheezed out, his lungs protesting. His head ached. He knew his Mangekyou was still active and consuming his chakra, but it was necessary for what he had planned.

“—so much blood, why—”

“Itachi,” he repeated, clearer this time, and made an effort to stand up again and assess his surroundings quickly. The Naka River— _good_. “Itachi, listen to me.”

The younger boy looked harried and so unlike himself, eyes wide and terrified and so confused. Shisui ached for him, for what he was about to do. He knew it was too much to ask, especially from a boy who was barely thirteen and had too much on his plate already but he was the only person Shisui trusted completely and right now, Shisui's only hope.

“Itachi… Promise me you'll protect the village,” he said, looking at his cousin in the eye. “Danzo—he's not to be trusted, he did this to me,” he confessed, and he watched as something changed in Itachi's eyes. They widened and flashed for a second, and if Shisui hadn't been so out of it, he might have noticed the red tinge of the Sharingan activating. “Promise me, Itachi, that you'll protect the village, and the Uchiha name.”

“I—Shisui—”

“ _Promise me,_ ” he hissed and watched guiltily as Itachi recoiled momentarily before squaring his shoulders and putting on a brave, serious face.

“I promise.”

“Good.” Shisui then lifted his left hand to his face and with trepidation but solid determination, stuck his fingers in his eye socket and pulled off his remaining eye. It hurt as much as the extraction of his right one had, if not more—the adrenalin of the fight had glossed over the pain back then, but as it had almost disappeared by this point it was much more acute and he almost passed out. He bit his lip to keep the scream in and his focus on the present. It bled.

He heard the choked exclamation of distress and was relatively glad that he could not see what face his cousin was making right now—it'd be too painful, he was sure. Lifting his arm towards the point he had last seen Itachi, he offered his prize to the boy and mustered enough energy to smile at him. It was an honest smile, and he hoped that Itachi didn't come to hate him too much after all this ended.

“Take this. Learn about Kotoamatsukami, my Mangekyou's ability. Use it wisely,” he said, and waited for Itachi to accept his gift. “And Itachi? I love you, little cousin. And I'm sorry,” he said at last, and then took five steps back and let himself fall backwards.

“SHISUI!”

The heart wrenching scream was the last thing he heard before the cold waters of the Naka River engulfed him and carried him away. He was blind, he was tired, and he couldn't even breathe any more, but the smile stayed put. He felt that a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but he didn't let himself die just yet. Forcing himself to gather whatever was left of his chakra, he concentrated on doing one last jutsu—

Nobody would find his body, he was adamant about that. He wouldn't let anybody make use of it. Not even after death.

 

* * *

 

_Drip._

He was floating in darkness. Or was it light?

_Drip._

He wasn't sure if he was going up or down. Was he sinking? Was he floating? Where was he?

_Drip, drip, drip._

He frowned, irritated with the soft sound. It didn't make sense, why was he there? Everything was peaceful—not dark, not light. There were no colours or smells or sounds, except for—

_Drip, drip, drip._

Why wouldn't it stop, for goodness sake?! It was so annoying! Shisui hadn't let himself die just to be irritated beyond belief in the afterlife by a bloody—

Startled, he drew in a gulp of air and forced his eyes open.

Everything was white. White and silent except for a constant _drip, drip, drip_ and hushed voices in the distance, and the melodious chirp of a bird singing outside the window. It was white and smelled like antiseptics and fresh flowers and it was _impossible!_

Shisui was _dead_! He had died after giving his eye to Itachi! He could clearly remember the horrible pain of plucking his own eye out and the guilt at hearing his cousin scream before the current carried him away and he died with a smile on his lips—

He sat up brusquely and looked around, instantly recognizing where he was. White walls, a window to the side. A simple door opposite the single bed in which he was resting. White sheets. The end of an IV drip stuck in his left forearm—the source of the annoying sound. A vase of bright and cheerful pink flowers over the side table that he shouldn't be able to see because _he didn't have eyes any more!_

Almost without a thought, he reached for his left eye and—yes. Those were his fingers. He could _see_ them. Why? How? He closed the eye and there was black, and with a trembling hand he carefully touched above the eyelid to make sure that the globe was there. It was, he could feel it, and when he opened it once again the hospital room came into focus once more.

He could see. His eye was intact.

But how—

Alarmed, he reached for his other eye, the one that Danzo had taken from him and surely, surely it was gone, without a doubt because—

He hissed as he made contact with the bandage that just then did he notice was covering the right side of his face. He had felt—No. Yes? Gingerly, he touched around the eye socket expecting it to feel different, hollow. But there was a slight protuberance, and it hurt. It hurt as if he _had_ an eye under all those bandages, tender and in need of protection and Shisui suddenly just needed to make sure, because it was simply not possible—

Just as he was starting to take off the dressing, the door opened. Shisui looked up and froze as he recognized his visitor, who froze along with him.

“Itachi?” He whispered, incredulous, watching as his little cousin inspected him with worry and relief and anger all mixed together in his dark eyes. He was carrying a book and the bags under his eyes told Shisui that the boy hadn't been sleeping well. “What—”

“You are an idiot. You are an idiot and I should kill you right now,” the boy declared frostily as he advanced towards the bedridden teen menacingly. Bewildered, Shisui could do nothing but stare as Itachi put his book over the side table and then strongly but gently took Shisui's hands away from the bandages around his head. “Don't touch that. The wound is healing nicely but the area is delicate still after the operation. You could lose your eye for real this time if it gets infected now.”

“Operation?” He blurted, more confused than ever before. “What operation? And my eye… didn't Danzo take it? And… how am I even alive?” He stressed, starting to hyperventilate. “I died! I gave you my left eye and _died!_ I remember it! How come—”

“Shisui.”

“—my eye is intact and we are here and I'm not dead—”

“Shisui!” The sharp tone made the stressed out boy shut up and look at his cousin wildly. “You didn't—After you mentioned Danzo, I knew something was wrong and I…” He hesitated minutely before looking determined again. “I activated my Sharingan and put you under a genjutsu. It made you believe that you were doing what you planned. Meanwhile, I knocked you out and brought you here.”

“But my tail—”

“They had been dealt with.”

“Danzo—”

“Has been investigated, interrogated and is awaiting execution.”

“What?!”

“Shisui—You've been out for a week,” Itachi informed and Shisui gaped. “You almost didn't make it,” he continued and Shisui noticed, to his abject horror, that the boy had actual tears in his eyes and was struggling not to break down crying. Shisui had never seen Itachi cry, not even when he was an infant. He didn't know what to do! “The operation was touch and go and they actually lost you for a moment there, you had lost so much blood—” He hiccuped and Shisui, terrified, struggled to move, to embrace the boy, to do anything in his power to stop it because Itachi was strong and mature and he never cried, it was not right.

“Oh, Kami. I'm so sorry, Itachi. I'm so sorry. I'm okay, you see? I'm alive and well. A little mangled and half-blind for the time being, but alive—thanks to you. I can't believe it. Alive, Itachi. I'm fine, so please, don't… Please don't cry,” he begged desperately.

He was trying to be reassuring, he really was! So why did his words only seem to make it worse? The thirteen year old was now actively crying—not with loud sobs and a running nose and shaking despair, but stiff muscles and a blank face and red rimmed eyes. Two separate tracks made of tears quickly run down pale cheeks to get lost under the high collar of the traditional Uchiha shirt and Shisui felt his heart constrict because his best friend had been so scared of the possibility of losing him, of Shisui dying and leaving him with such a burden over his shoulders to face alone and—

He felt his own tears making their way down his own cheeks, warm and wet and—liberating. Full of relief and gratitude and guilt because for all his thinking, for all his determination to die on his own terms, Shisui was just sixteen. He hadn't wanted to die. There were so many things he still wanted to do, so many things he wanted to see. He was so grateful to his cousin for helping him, for stopping him. He had been given a second opportunity, and he promised himself that he would make it count.

He squeezed the small hand he had grasped, trying to offer his best friend even a little bit of comfort.

“Why are _you_ crying, idiot?” Itachi growled, rubbing his arm over his face to get rid of the tears. “It's all your fault. You don't deserve to be crying over this. Stupid.”

Shisui chuckled and smiled wobbly at his younger cousin.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, idiot.”

“Sorry.”

“I hate you.”

“Sorry.”

They were silent for some time, rejoicing in the fact that they were both alive and well. Shisui almost couldn't believe it. Even as he reassured Itachi, a part of his brain was still stuck on the idea that he had died and everything happening now was just a dream.

Surely it couldn't have been so simple? Danzo's men had been following him, he was almost dead and then—he was saved?

Even if he didn't want to doubt the hopeful vision, he couldn't bring himself to believe it completely. Things just weren't adding up. How come he didn't die of blood loss? Even if Itachi had literally stopped him from committing suicide putting him under a genjutsu, his state had been horrible. He distinctly remembered the light headedness of blood loss and the strain on his chakra conducts. How did little Itachi manage to bring him all the way to the hospital while avoiding Shisui's tail and making sure that he didn't die in the process?

“What happened?” He asked once again, and Itachi gave him a look that clearly stated that he believed Shisui was being dense. Shisui would have rolled his eyes in exasperation any other time, but now it hurt so he wisely avoided doing so. He did glare pointedly at the boy. “After I passed out. You were too vague. There are things that aren't adding up. How did you manage to avoid the shinobi that were following me? How come I have _both_ my eyes? Why would the Hokage capture Danzo? You said something about an execution? What about—”

“Shisui, stop. Calm down,” Itachi ordered and reluctantly, Shisui stopped with the barrage of questions. “It's… complicated. I shouldn't be the one explaining this, as I don't have all the facts, either. I could call Otou-sama and the Hokage here, they'd be the best option. They wanted to talk to you, anyway.”

“Er… sure. That's fine,” Shisui accepted with some bewilderment, because since the plans for a coup had started and Shisui had been ordered to keep an eye on his cousin, he hadn't heard Itachi referring to his father by anything else but Fugaku-sama. Something had happened while he was unconscious. Something even bigger than Danzo being apprehended.

But what?

“All right. Excuse me,” the boy said and after squeezing Shisui's hand once more, he let go and walked out of the room.

He came back half an hour later with the Head of the Uchiha Clan and the Sandaime Hokage.

Shisui was then informed that he owed his life not only to his little cousin, but also to his accidental saviour. The blond man was named Namikaze Naruto, and he had taken Danzo down and retrieved Shisui's stolen eye. He had also helped the Sandaime with the investigation against the war hawk, which resulted in so many revelations that actually condemned the man to execution.

The best thing, though, happened when Shisui was left alone with Fugaku-sama and was informed that the Uchiha had decided to bury the hatchet and forget about the coup.

“The situation had been manipulated. We had been just where Danzo wanted us, obliviously dancing to his tune without even suspecting it,” Fugaku had said solemnly, and there was an undercurrent of rage beneath his calm tone that burnt like acid, even when it was not directed at Shisui. “The Uchiha are no fools, and we do not let people manipulate us once we have realized that they are doing so. It has been decided that we should review our position within the village together with the Hokage. Ideally, the reasons why we decided to take such drastic measures will be cleared up and actions will be taken to resolve the situation in a way that results mutually beneficial.”

Shisui had been ecstatic.

Things had turned out much better than he ever hoped they would when he had decided to approach Danzo with his solution to the coup.

Sure, he had lost an eye (which he regained afterwards) and almost died, put his cousin under too much stress and unknowingly revealed his opposition to the plan the Clan had been devoted to for so long. Sure, he'd probably be confined to the horrible hospital bed for some time, but—

He was alive, he was whole, the traitor was captured and his family and his village were once again in good terms—or at least working on getting there. His loved ones were safe and the prospect of war had been pushed far away.

He just hoped that he'd be able to meet Namikaze Naruto and express his deep gratitude to the man in person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops! There! What happened during that week? What's going to happen now? Mmmm... we'll see! :)
> 
> For anyone interested, the flowers Shisui got are Peonies, which stand for healing. I chose them over daisies because the room was already too white to have white flowers, too.
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed the chapter even with its distinct lack of Naruto. He's definitely appearing next, though!
> 
> Comments are appreciated!
> 
> Thank you all for reading! ♡

**Author's Note:**

> I accept prompts for how this can develop! :D I won't promise I'll write them, but I'll surely take them into consideration :3
> 
> Thank you for reading! :D
> 
>  
> 
> FIND ME ON [tumblr](http://kurosakiami01.tumblr.com)! :D


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